Tuesday, January 5, 2010

When You're Here, You're Family (4.12.09)

First of all, Happy Easter everyone! To celebrate in style, we went to a party at Mikey Schaeper's house. I haven't been to a house party in a long time, mainly because all of my friends, save for literally three, are 21 and can go to the bars. I personally have 78 days left. And my birthday buddy and I have chosen to have a Toga party bus. Way excited. But that's off topic. So we're at Mikey's...I haven't seen this guy in literally 2.5 years...since we celebrated Christa's 19th birthday there. But whatev.

After hanging out for a few hours, and everyone getting annihilated, I drove them to the Paragon (Well, almost all of 'em. One decided he was "sober enough" and after arguing with him for ten minutes, he just got into his car and drove off). There really is nothing like eating an overabundance of fried foods that have been coughed on, spit on, and probably nibbled on in the kitchen back there. You can see the food being made, and one time I watched the cook sneeze and then touch my fries. So you either have to be so drunk that you don't care how your food was made or just be confident you have an immune system o' steel and try not to watch it get made.

Another thing I should probably mention about the Paragon is that anything goes. If you aren't endangering any other patrons or causing too much ruckus, you can do more or less whatever you want. And by too much ruckus, I mean standing on the tables and shouting "FUCK YOU!" Otherwise, they are pretty lax about things. Like last night, some guys were serenading everyone's favorite overnight waitress, Carolyne, with the song "Sweet Caroline" (because, you know, obviously they are the first ones to think of that). I've met some crazy psychos at the 'Gon too...like the couple who started whispering to each other...but if you'll remember, the drunker you get, the louder you get. So their conversation went a little like this:

Cletus: You know what I did.
Barbara: Cletus, not here.
Cletus: I had sex with you...my penis was inside you. It was insiiiidddeee you.
Barbara: Cletus, stop.
Cletus (starts rubbing her under the table): My penis was inside you and we are gonna have a baby.
Barbara: Cletus, I don't want this baby.

It was here that I chose to stop listening. These two are bringing a baby in the world and are still groping at the Paragon. God save that child. But anyways. So we sat down near the door, prime spot for meeting the newbies that came in. My crew is a little bit drunk. At the party, Troy and Christa were watching the movie Hook and Troy had been shouting "JUUULLLIIAAA!" at the tv every time Julia Roberts came on. He continued this trend at the Paragon. We would be having a normal conversation when all of a sudden he would shout out, "JUUUULLLIIIAA!" Obviously no one there was named Julia. No big. No one questioned it.

Our waitress came and dropped a few forks and napkins off at our table and says, "Here's some forks and shit. Use 'em if you want." My table breaks out into claps and cheers. Later, Tom tipped her like 150% and told her he was so happy she said "Here's some forks and shit. If you don't use 'em, get the fuck out of my face and never come back." The waitress looked confused and said that wasn't what she said. Tom replies, "In my head, that's what's happened, so you're getting tipped well." Tom was the brave one of the night. He ordered the "Four-bagger." This is a compilation of 10 each of all the fried foods that the paragon serves...mozzarella sticks, fried mushrooms, breaded shrimp, and chicken drummies. Good for those drunken late night grease cravings, I guess. I personally think it would be healthier to just eat a spoonful of lard. But Tom's brave.

There was a jelly on the floor. Laura steps on it and it makes this little pop noise. Of course, my entire table picks up on this and starts shouting that she is ruining the restaurant. Laura is cowering in the corner, begging the rest of the table not to tell on her. Tom is raising his hand. I decide to humor him and so I call on him. He tells me Laura is making a mess of the restaurant and he is going to tell the waitress on her. I can't help but laugh at this point, and the story gets turned from what actually happened to "Laura purposely stomped on the jelly container, it went everywhere, and made a sound like a gun." And, of course, since boys are assholes (ha), they start teasing Laura about some guy she met two weeks ago. I don't know him and so I can't judge. One was trying to be diplomatic about it, because he didn't want to see her hurt, one was giggling because someone had just said penis, and the other was shouting, "JJJUUUUULLLIIIAAAA!" whenever Laura would get mad.

Luckily for me, I didn't have to make everyone go to their own corner of the table. It was at this moment that a lady came in literally almost CARRYING this guy with her. This is terrible but when I first saw him, I thought he was literally mentally handicapped (I suppose it's extremely fair to argue that he was). He was trying to talk, but it certainly wasn't comprehensible English, and if left to his own devices, he would just fall. That lady was the only thing keeping him from licking the dust off the floor. She pushed him into a booth (not hard...but he just fell, so she had to pull him into a sitting position) and ordered him some food. I looked over a few minutes later, and he was all cuddled into her like a little kid with a big smile on his face. He is going to be a hurting unit this morning I feel.

After an hour, I convince my crew that it's enough for one night. I get them all up and ready to leave, but not before Troy decides he has to shout at the cooks, Burt and the Pilgrim. The Pilgrim (aptly named because he has a hat that Pilgrims wear) looked grumpily at Troy and Burt wouldn't even look up. Burt does like Troy, I just think he's finally tuned out drunken shouting after all these years. At this point the entire "restaurant" is staring at us. So I give them a Miss America wave. Quite a few of the drunk patrons actually waved back.

Carolyne is a saint.

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