I am hurtin'. Hurtin' reeeeeeal bad.
Easter weekend. What better way to celebrate than with Colt 45 and strippers in Flint, Michigan?
What?
That's right. I traveled to Flint Michigan with female roommate and girlfriend of male roommate this weekend. It was everything and nothing that I anticipated.
We left at 8pm on Friday. We decided we were only going to drive halfway since it's a 5+ hour drive. After escaping the city, we drove around 2 hours and ended up in Paw Paw, Michigan. Since it was already 12am (they are an hour ahead) we scoured this tiny little town looking for somewhere to procure some libations... the more white trash, the better.
After cruising Paw Paw's darkened main strip, we came across a place called The Sportsman that actually looked open. We cautiously parked our rented Nissan Altima (a step above the Maxima, or so I've heard) right out front. We were all pretty nervous to enter, but our desire to get drunk over-rode any doubts. We opened the front door and a cloud of smoke slapped us across the face as the tinny music of a backwoods band assaulted our ears. It was right out of a scene in a movie. I swear... the music screeched to a halt and all eyes were pointed directly at us. (Well, except for the patrons with lazy eyes, of course).
We meekly filed towards the back of the rather large bar, heads down, trying not to make eye contact. We found a vacant table, and skinny shell of a woman approached us to get our drink order. 2 light beers and Skyy and cranberry for yours truly came to $9. We were agog.
Almost immediately, an old fella with a cowboy hat and handlebar mustache parked himself right next to us. I think he was trying to listen to our conversation so he could jump in and inevitably bed one of us. We regarded him warily.
Our second round was compliments of a good old boy named Rick, arguably the best looking guy in the bar (and that is REALLY not saying much.) We showed our appreciation by raising our drinks, but there was no way in hell we were gong over to thank him personally. And he never approached us all night. Gotta love random acts of kindness.
The band inquired if anyone in the bar was celebrating anything. I mumbled something about being so happy about being released from the Penn, which caught the attention of the lurker, who encouraged me to raise my hand and tell them. I completely ignored him. Female roommate, who will from now on be referred to as LL (don't ask), shouted out that it was my birthday, to my complete chagrin. The lurker took it upon himself to go inform the band of this blatant lie.
After a few songs, the band acknowledged my very happy unbirthday and the whole bar sang to me. My face was on fire. I was giggling nervously and hide to fight the urge to run into the bathroom. I am VERY shy around people I don't know, especially when said people were at a bar with NASCAR car hoods fastened to the ceiling.
Well, that opened the floodgates. Now every skeezy guy had a reason to be able to come and talk to us. And it was all directed at me. I think every Tom, Dick and Bubba bought us drinks after that. So that saved me $12.75.
Can you picture this place in your head at all? Let me help. All the signs were hand-lettered and said such things as "$20 charge for bad chexs." There were mirrored Milwaukee's Best signs everywhere. Dale Ernhardt Jr. peered at me from several posters tacked up around the vicinity. A cloud of smoke hovered directly above our heads. I have also never seen so much grab-assing in my life, and I was in college for 6 years. If you still can't see it, you are in luck. I took pictures.
I had to lighten this up a bit... but you get the idea.
A scraggly old geezer approached LL to dance. She refused, saying she was "shy" (HA!) and that she had two left feet. We practically pushed her out of her chair. She danced with him half-heartedly and then came back and exclaimed, "He has poop breath!"
The lurker than asked me to dance, since it was my birthday and all. So now I was forced by my companions. He sort of dug his hips into me as we swayed back and forth. I prayed the "Little General" would not be saluting me anytime soon. He told me his name was Bernie and that I was the prettiest thing he'd seen in these parts. I instantly felt very sorry for him.
Bernie and me, post-slow dance.
The night wound down without much further incident. We made it through last call and decided to call it a night. Some kid, whose grandpa owned the bar and that looked like Mr. Peepers tried to get us to go back and party with him. Him and two rotund girls that "wanted to get fucked up tonight since they had to spend all day Sunday with their kids" and that "worked at Speedway since we can get free chili dogs" tried to talk us into joining them for a night on the town, but we respectfully declined. Bernie, ever being the perfect gentleman, walked us to our car and then disappeared into the night.
We chose the shittiest hotel possible and settled in. But not before LL conjured up some hijinks.
Ugh, I don't even want to know what kinds of parasites are living in that comforter.
Flexible little thang, ain't she?
We turned on the tube and quickly found what we wanted to see. We drifted off to sleep with the fake moaning of the star of some cheesy Skinamax soft core porn dancing in our heads.
We got up pretty early and made the rest of the trip to Flint. LL showed us around the downtown area and we stopped by a house she lived in for three years. We went to her dad's pretty place to hang out and eat and then to her mom's to see baby pictures and drink 40s. No, actually, her mom jumped in the car with us and we got the complete Flint tour. I wish I would have gotten pictures of some of the truly scary sights I saw, but I didn't want to get shot at. Actually, there were some very pretty places, but those were obscured by the thick cloud of depression that seemed to be settled over the town. Even so, I am jealous of LL's upbringing there. She has a kick ass group of friends that still live there and some wild ass stories that make me think she should write a book.
We got back to her mom's and geared up for the night ahead.
LL, some Colt 45 and her momma.
A bunch of her Flinttown friends came over and we headed out to a bar/restaurant called Bubba O'Malleys. I had been craving a dirty martini, so I asked the waitress if they served them and she looked at me like I was a fucking moron. But she still got it for me and dubbed me "Martini Lady." She looked so much like Avril Lavingne it was scary. Go take your psuedo poppunkrock attitude somewhere else, missy.
I knocked back 3 martinis with no problem, which was a bad omen. Roommate's girlfriend got a free, fruity huge drink from some old guys at the bar, which she gave to me, because she only wanted a beer. So I went up to get her one and then next thing I know, some older fat ass nasty scumbag has his arm wrapped around me. He says, very loudly much to the delight of his friends, "Man, has anyone ever told you you have HUGE TITS?" I shook off his arm and turned to face him and exclaimed "Newsflash!" He then asked me if my mom had big tits too, to which I retorted "Not as big as yours!" He recoiled a bit as his friends cracked up. I went on to say "Speaking of mothers, does your know you talk to females this way? I bet she'd be really proud." He shook his head, all the while leering at my chest. He then blurts "That top shows off you tits just perfectly." I looked at his brightly colored, vertical stripped shirt and said" Man, yours makes you look like the Big Top circus has come to town!" His friend's were DYING. Not very often so I have the perfect thing to say at the perfect moment, but this douchebag just brought it out in me, I guess. My beer finally came, so I made my exit, but not before exclaiming "Good luck making bail tonight!"
That guy can go play hide-and-go-fuck-himself. Geez.
We left that bar shortly after and our huge group made their way to a karioke bar. One of the guys sang "Chocolate Salty Balls," which I got on tape. It was priceless. He is a very cool guy. He is a DJ and later that night he showed me his web page from his station, which impressed the hell out of me. The boy has interviewed A LOT of celebrities. I am totally jealous of his job. He said he could get me $20,000 a year more than I am making here if I would move to Cleveland. As we all know, Cleveland rocks. I might consider it.
That's hot.
Even hotter.
I choked down a few $1.75 vodka/pineapples and laughed at the trashy skanks on the dance floor. We didn't stay there very long, because this was all leading up to the main event. Nathan J's Strip Club of Flint, MI. I was anticipating this all night. I was curious to see the caliber of stripper would be employed here. A few had kinda nasty bodies, but two of them were very cute. We got a stage-side seat and hilarity and scandal ensued. One of the girls in the outer edges of our group made very good friends with a local girl and we are pretty sure they made even better friends in the bathroom. Man, this weekend was chock full of psudeo lesbianism. Gotta love that. I had a stripper take a $20 supplied from one of the guys from my cleavage. I love how the strippers pay way more attention to the females than the males. That's because guys treat them like the pieces of meat they feel like they are. We actually look them in the eye and hold conversations. I do believe I even convinced one of them to go back to school.
A few Long Islands, Jager bombs and dollar bills taken with teeth later, it was last call. I really can not elaborate on some of the more scandalous aspects of this evening because the pact "What happens in Flint stays in Flint" was made very early in the trip. But I'd have to say it was one of the crazier night of my life. We toasted to Jesus and then got the hell out of there.
Am I totally going to hell or what?
I made sure I called Dio as soon as we left the strip club to assure him I was in one piece and faithful. I really love that kid and I would never do anything to mess it up.
We went back to the condo of an Asian guy oddly enough named Rusty, who was very nice and did a lovely job of being a host. I ended up passing out upright on a leather chair, mostly from fatigue, but the massive amount of alcohol helped. I actually remember everything, thank God, because it was all too good to miss. I am glad I kept it together enough to take so many mental notes.
I woke up with extreme neck pain and a huge welt on my leg, which I can only guess came from ramming my thigh into a chair. Zoinks. LL was feeling horrible, so we went back to her moms, gathered our stuff and hit the road.