December 20, 2009

Fact is Better: That's Your Sister? High-Five!

I'm a big fan of lying in social situations. If I'm approached at a bar I lie about my name, my age, my profession - absolutely everything. And whoever is with me usually has to play along, too. Sometimes it comes naturally, other times we have to work really hard to keep our stories straight.

The Cake Maker and our new adorable, introverted friend The Photographer were at a Christmas concert where twenty-one local bands were playing their versions of holiday classics. And, of course, some drunk had to come and put his smooth moves on me.

Drunk Army Dude: "Aww, hey, you wanna see something funny? See that dude over there with the sweet moves?"
*he points to some drunk asshole dancing/twitching all over the place*
Drunk Army Dude: "That's my brother. He's old, he's like thirty. What a loser, hunh?"
*The Cake Maker and I look over and start giggling at the dancing brother*
Drunk Army Dude: "HEY NOW. DON'T BE HATING. HE'S GOING THROUGH SOME HARD STUFF."
Me: "Whoa, man, calm down - you're the one who was mocking him."
Drunk Army Dude: "Whatever. STOP LAUGHING. So, hey, how old are you?"
Me: "Thirty."
Drunk Army Dude: "Wow. What do you do for work?"
Me: "I'm a teacher. I teach art. I'm a teacher who teaches art at the high school."
Drunk Army Dude: *looks at The Cake Maker* "What do you do?"
The Cake Maker: *massive pause* "Um, I . . . I. . .I'm a . . . I'M A HARBOR MASTER! Yeah . . . yeah! I used to be a harbor master. Yeah. But, um, the ocean is frozen now and, um, I'm unemployed."
*The Photographer comes over to us, as does The Drunk Army Dude's Brother*
Drunk Army Dude: "Who's this?!"
The Drunk Army Dude's Brother: "Awwww, man! All the mo-hawked dudes get the ladies!"
Me: "Oh, no! We're not together! This is just my brother."
The Drunk Army Dude's Brother: "Yeah, buddy!" *he gives The Photographer a high-five*
*The Photographer looks at me unhappily*
Drunk Army Dude: *looks at me* "So how old are you?"
The Drunk Army Dude's Brother: "Yeah how old are you?"
Me: *sighing* "Thirty."
Drunk Army Dude: "Wow. What do you do for work?"
The Cake Maker: "OH MY GOD WE HAVE TO GO! Whoa, crazy. Crazy timing. Just crazy . . ."
*we start leaving the club*
Me: "Listen, I don't ask for this! I DON'T! I don't ask for drunk assholes to come up to me and harass me when I go out. IT HAPPENS EVERY TIME."
The Photographer: "You're an attractive female in the bar. You don't have to ask for it."
Me: "Ugh." *looking at The Cake Maker* "So hey you get the 'Almost Blew Our Cover' Award tonight."
The Photographer: "What'd she do?"
The Cake Maker: "I told them I was an unemployed harbor master."
The Photographer: *raises an eyebrow* "Hey, were either one of you as creeped out as I was after that guy high-fived me for you being my sister?"
The Cake Maker: “Welcome to Maine. Where incest is a game the whole family can play.”

True story.

Further proof that fact is better than fiction.