Alisha and the return to Club "Hell".

ALISHA

Really Bad Date # 71

One of my first girlfriends ever, was Jeannie Marie. She was a junior in high school when I was just a a freshman, and all of her girlfriends would flip her shit for “robbing the cradle.” I was smitten with her from the second I saw her and never thought for a second that she would ever have a romantic interest in me. I was a metal head with terrible bleached blonde, dread-like unwashed hair and she was a beautiful gymnast/ Ballerina that was aspiring to be a cheerleader. I never thought in a million years that I would have a shot with this girl. I wore the same ridiculous outfit every day; I was wearing baggy corduroy pants that I intentionally bought 5 sizes too big so I could stuff a wallet chain big enough to haul a backhoe behind me. I wore metal tour shirts (from concerts that I actually went to: (Pantera, Metallica, Slayer, Megadeth etc.) I was metal as fuck, and all of my friends knew it. I was sort of a social outcast with small exceptions from every group, “The Jocks” since I was a varsity wrestler with a “fastest pin” title, and apparently unbeatable at arm wrestling. “The nerds” since I actually knew how to play Magic the gathering (and I was good at it) and of course my fellow metalheads who I met on the high school bus a few years prior and ended up in a band with one several years later and toured for a while. My closest friends however were sort of in the “nerd category” despite my closest friends opinions; (who were convinced that metal died about the same time I was born), I owned the metal look at our high school, and I was proud of it. We thrived at that high school as the group I would like to proclaim: “psuedonerds with imagination”.

Although Jeannie didn't ask me to the homecoming dance; I was asked to our high school's homecoming dance by a very pretty junior girl named Katja, and being that I was a freshman...this was the equivalent of being asked to the Grammy's by Beyonce. It just doesn't happen. I wasn't about to argue though. My buddies at the time were pushing me to do it and even though secretly I wanted to do it, I played a small game of coy reluctance just so they could feel as though they were part of the whole plan. I loved my high school guy friends. I couldn't have asked for a better group of guys to roll with. They were convinced that I was going to not only go to homecoming with an older girl, but I was also going to lose my virginity to her on our first date. I suppose, looking back, I could have, but it would have been terrible for both my date and myself. I was still a virgin and literally had no sexual experience....maybe it was because of the metal outfit, and 15lb wallet chain.

Katja, and I had a Spanish class together and rarely spoke to each other in English.

When she actually asked me to homecoming it was on an assignment paper that we had worked on together and had to turn in later that day.....*kicks self in ass for not saving it.

Years later I actually thought it was cute that she put herself up for public humiliation in front of a classroom to ask out an underclassman. She was a cheerleader that came from a very wealthy family....(what the fuck was she doing?)

We had gotten our whole posse put together, with my freshman boy group and all of their dates....which also happened to be juniors in high school. We were like a great, big, nerdy group of Finches from American pie, taking Stiffler's mom to the prom.

I will have to give most of the credit to one of the best friends I have ever had “Neal” for having the older sister that used to organize the situation with all of our slightly over-mature dates. Neal, was and is a genius in his own right. I still feel like he put this all together without any of us knowing. He is “that guy”. Always had a plan....an awesome plan!! I mean really...it's one thing to have a freshman boy get asked to a dance by a junior girl....but 5....that are all best friends? Come on! People don't just win at life that much without someone planting a few sociological seeds.

I had been sworn in to go to the home coming dance with Katja...who I assure you is hot...but possibly 6 inches taller than me....also rendering her about a foot taller than me once she had her homecoming dance footwear on. I'm not a midget by any means, but having a girl tower over you by a full foot, gave us the appearance of Frodo Baggins and Paris Hilton....it's not pretty.

The true apple of my eye was Jeannie Marie, she was beautiful and curvy in a way that I wasn’t familiar with. She was built for baby making. I just didn't know it at the time because I was like ½ way through puberty. She had great curves, both in front and in back and I didn't know at the time that “this was the female form at it's best”.

Jeannie Marie and I went to the same catholic church and the morals that had been instilled in my brain had pushed me away from fornication. Apparently the thoughts that were naturally running through my head were sins. So, I adjusted them with the help of my morning shower, my imagination, and a good solid grip on the situation.....like 4-5 times a day.

Katja and I went to the homecoming dance together but, I'm afraid our intentions were the same....just not with each other. I was totally into Jeanne Marie, and Katja was apparently into some dude named Tony which she actually left me for....mid dance at the high school.

When all of my home boys got back to Jeannie Marie”s parent's house that night, I was the only one that didn't come back with a date.

Jeannie had gone to home coming with our friend Jason, as a deterrent to hide her feelings towards me, and to be totally fair, I was kind of glad Katja had gone off on her own. I wasn't into Katja....at....alll!!!

After I had been ditched, Jeannie and I swapped stories of our home coming demise and dated each other for a couple of weeks. It had become very clear to both of us (very quickly) that slow dancing to Megadeth while her parents were home was not going to quench our overly sexual and restrained catholic sexual thirst for promiscuity. She was far too advanced for my mid-adolescence behavior and I was far too inexperienced to make the first move.

Our relationship was over following a short peck (our first) on the lips at the gates of her dance school after I had walked her there after school was out on a chilly day in October.

Years later....after I had enjoyed the splendors of real vagina, and Jeannie realized that a penis can bring a lot more to the table than just urine. We started talking again, via facebook, or myspace....or some such shit.

She had been dating “Erick” who was a commercial train conductor.

Are you Fucking kidding me? A commercial train conductor....That has to be at least a tenth of the world's dream job amongst boys when I was growing up “This dude is happier than every dick-hole Taliban member that ran a plane into our country and actually found themselves in the arms of a bunch of hot virgins after they were vaporized .

We had started to make a tradition out of getting margaritas every Friday after work. We had a lot of really goofy tequila driven conversations, but this one would change my life forever.

H: So do your parents like Erick?

J:“Ya, but my parent's want me to end up with a guy who is high up on the corporate ladder”

H: “Dude, I am up pretty high on the corporate ladder....but I'm no conductor”

J: “Yeah, they want me to end up with someone who is high up on the corporate ladder.... at a MAJOR corporation.

H: So, selling high end fishing poles doesn't qualify as a “higher up” for a “major corporation” then?

J: Haha, very funny....but no, not to my parents. They want me to end up with like a CEO of a big software company. Oooooh, not to change the subject but, I've been meaning to ask you if you have any plans for Halloween.

H: Probably just get wasted and go cougar hunting at the casino or something, I guess. You?

J: Well, Erick and I are having a little Halloween party, and we were talking about hooking you up with our friend Alisha.

H: Oh yeah? Is she hot and slutty?

J: Haha, well she is cute and probably puts out, if she likes you.

H: Sold

Jeannie gave me Alisha's number and said that she would be expecting my call. When I did call her, our conversations were about as exciting as a tea party with Martha Stewart. She was out of work, living at her parent's house in Seattle, and basically had very little to no social life other than Jeannie and Erick, and even then she couldn't afford to pay her own way when they went out, so if she drank anything, it was because someone else had payed for her. Despite my better judgement, I met up with Alisha a week before Halloween and we sort of hit it off with the help of Jose Cuervo and Budwieser. My intentions were less than admirable however: I basically just wanted to have sex with her so that Alisha would tell Jeannie Marie exactly what she had been missing out on all these years and how awesome it was. I had very little attraction to Alisha, she was very melancholy and dramatic. Her social life consisted of her parents and a practically married couple, so she was more often than not....the 3^rd wheel, and an expensive one to top it off. Not to mention the fact that she was a ginger, and to me dating a ginger has about the same appeal as being rectally examined by a disgruntled syphilitic rhinoceros.

Alisha's one saving grace was the fact that she liked to drink and she was good at it, which made her tolerable in public as long as we were at the same level of toxicity. Like I said: she is very melancholy and dramatic, so as long as we are in a quiet spot where she can be melancholy and dramatic in a quiet setting with no innocent bystanders to be tortured by her perpetual sadness, there were no problems.

Alisha and I agreed to dress up like Bavarian villagers, well basically I was wearing lederhosen and she was dressed up like the st. pauli girl. ...but ginger.

She looked something like this...

And this was me....

Believe it or not we actually got a pretty decent response from the Halloween party at Jeannie and Erick's place. My lederhosen shorts were 5 sizes too big and made me look like I had been shitting myself for the last 2 weeks into a giant diaper. Alisha looked good but as a ginger she was lacking in curves, and frankly without the help of surgery, gingers are not genetically designed to grow tits very well so she was pushing up skin flaps with a wonder bra,and I am pretty sure the wonder bra she was wearing was making up most of the illusion of actually having breasts....look I'm not talking shit, gingers are just not genetically designed to grow big tits. It's not like its a secret, some races are just genetically lacking, and others are blessed in natural selection and sex appeal...for example: Asian men are not genetically designed to grow a big penis. It is just one of those flaws that has to either be redeemed with surgery or made up for in other ways like money and a high paying job, or insane amounts of foreplay to make up for the lack of actual penetration. (i hate to be blunt, and again I am not a racist by any means, but think about it: ladies....if you are going to have a discreet affair.... the last dude in the world you are going to pick up is a short Asian dude right?....lets face it; If you take the hottest “all natural” Asian dude in the world, and the hottest “all natural” Asian chick in the world and strip them naked, back them up 50 yards, you cant even tell which is male and which is female. That isn't a bash on Asian people, I am just saying their particular nationality isn't necessarily built for sex.

If you were to do the same with Colombians, or Africans....Bammm!!!! Their bodies were obviously built for sex. The women are curvacious and for the most part the men are well equipped and built for baby making as well.

Jeannie and Erick were dressed up like Greek gods. Erick was Zeus and it became very apparent why Jeannie was into him. He was actually built like a Greek god. I stood no chance against him with Jeannie and there was no point in trying any more. I was actually just happy for them. Erick, is a really good guy and Jeannie is a very sweet, intelligent and incredibly beautiful girl that deserves someone like Erick. Ugh....this sounds so cliché but, they actually deserve each other.

As for myself and St. Carrot top Girl. I was having my doubts.

There was a group of 10 or so people in Erick and Jeannie's apartment. Everyone was coupled up and slowly dispersing as we were getting into drinking games. (It was unfortunate to see the whole party dissolve, but what can you do? It was just Perils of having Halloween fall on a week day) We got through a round of a drinking game called “kings' and we all decided to put together some concrete plans for the night.

Erick belonged to a night club in Capitol Hill and said that he could get us all in. Within minutes we had a cab waiting for us downstairs and we were on our way.

Due to the combination of beer and tequila that was surging through my system at an alarming rate, I only vaguely recall the ride to the club, but when we got there I immediately recognized the building. It was an Asian restaurant that appeared to have been closed for a very long time.

Erick went ahead of us by himself into a dark alley (that I recognized) and opened a door that didn't appear to exist until he opened it on the side of the building, to reveal the beautiful hue of red lights against an ethereal fog that had been created by the wonderment’s of whatever was on the other side of that door.

Erick poked his head into the door for a few seconds and turned around to wave us in. A very familiar scenario played back in my head. Involving one british gentleman that resembled a certain Billy Blanks (the Tae Bo guy). I was having flashbacks of the night J-Blood (Bad Date #69) and I were lured into this very club a few months prior. The same Red glow against the fog sent images in my head like an old Vietnam vet: the piranha bird man, and the rest of the cast of The Labyrinth were dancing through my head as David Bowie's song “Dance Magic Dance” was playing in repeat in my subconscious as we entered the front door. I was fully convinced that Miss Louie Anderson would be greeting us at the front desk. I was actually a little worried about it to be honest, but since I knew what I was getting into, I knew how to avoid any possible dangerous situations.....or so I thought.

(This was the hallway leading to the front desk, which leads to the club. It isn't hard to look at really.....Unless you have been there before, and the scenario involved a female Wiccan version of Louie Anderson and was there to attack you with her own personal blood bank set up and roofies.)

I was pretty buzzed and so was the rest of the posse. Jeannie was strikingly hot in her Greek goddess outfit and unfortunately for both of us; it sort of stole my date's thunder. (granted, the Bavarian bar wench thing was working for me) But when the Greek goddess and I have history, I'm afraid that the hottest ginger bar wench in the world still looks like a lake full of high volume and slightly obnoxious phlegm to me.

I had wanted to see Jeannie Marie naked since I was mid adolescence. She was the reason I got boners as a young teenager, and she was showing as much skin tonight as I was ever going to see. I was savoring the flavor.

We all went inside at the same time. When we all walked up to the front desk. I was still in shock from the amazing amount of replay from my last visit to this fine establishment that was swimming through my head. I didn't say a word...i was just convinced that Louie Anderson was going to greet us at the counter with a blood transfusion device.

The tall dark heavily tattoo'd bro at the front desk assured me that I had already paid for a lifetime membership to the club and I wasn't dinged the $20 cover charge. I was baffled and slightly afraid. I didn't remember much of the last time I was there and certainly didn't remember paying any annual dues and certainly not a lifetime membership. However it was very clear that my name was on their list.

The host this time, resembled nothing like Louie Anderson. He was tall and muscular, like Edward Norton in American History X but taller. He was scarier than Louie Anderson could ever be...Male or female. The tattoos on his head and arms looked like one of H.R Giger's alien movie masterpieces, but creepier and bloody. It gave him the illusion of having an alien exoskeleton. It was frightening until he opened his mouth to expose a very timid voice with a lisp.

Host: Heeeey Guythhhzzz!

I was relieved by the friendly and unusually feminine greeting. Buzzed or not, I would much rather have a beastly tattoo'd guy appear to be the biggest fairy in the world than to actually have the personality to match his appearance.

After we were all let into the club I started to realize just how many beers I had put down at the halloween gathering at Jeannie and Ericks...and so did my bladder. I had to pee so bad that I was clenching my legs together to hold it in. I announced to Alisha that I needed to go use the restroom and I would return with a drink for her A.S.A. Penis. When I entered the restroom there was a mural on the door which read “Welcome to hell”. It was written in what appeared to be blood and the blood streaks created a canvas that made it appear to be fire, and the words were smeared onto the canvas by hand.

There were no privacy dividers in between the urinals that seemed to practically be touching each other. There was also no privacy divider for the toilet. “Well that's not very classy” I thought.

So, in the instance that you actually have to go to the bathroom, you are either brushing shoulders with the person next to you, or you are literally 3 feet from whichever unfortunate soul has to take a shit. I got to experience both. I was brushing shoulders with a guy dressed like jason from friday the 13^th, and to make matters worse; a man in a flambouyant pink dress was dropping a bomb in the toilet to my right. I pushed the party beer out of me with the force of a NYC fire engine hose so I could get out of the room before the drag queen's rancid feces hit my nostrils. I could only hold my breath for so long. I was doing what my old Texas band mates referred to as “Chicken Nosing”

Chicken Nosing: Anyone who has ever been in a chicken coup knows how fowl the smell can be. The chickens shit and piss everywhere, and since it's pee piles and shit is so small and un-noticeable, no one bothers to clean it up...therefor multiplying the stench until it is actually unbearable for a human to breath through their nose. Even the burliest farmers wear a handkerchief around their neck so they can put it over their nose and mouth upon entering the chicken shitatorium. Some people are not blessed enough to have a handkerchief when a situation occurs where the air is not breathable by human standards, yet no one likes to show any weakness to stench, however some will be forced to mask their nose and mouth with their hand while breathing through their mouth like a High School cheerleader avoiding dog shit upon sight.

Chicken nosing is a clever way to avoid looking like a High School cheerleader while also avoiding the rancid stench that is seemingly strong enough to peel the paint off of the wall.

1. Take a deep breath as you are entering the foul zone.

2. Hold your breath for as long as you can while you are taking care of business.

3. When you cant hold your breath any longer, let it out slowly as you raise your hand to cover your mouth and pretend to yawn. Use your index finger to strategically cover both nostrils as you prepare for a second deep breath.

4. Exit the premises as quickly as humanly possible, with head held high and leave no sign of surprise.

5. Continue to win at life.

    

   I narrowly escaped the restroom cleverly named “Hell” UN-scarred and un-noticed. Finally I made my way to the bar and noticed that it was unusually busy. I had to use a little bit of bar-tender tact to get to the front.

   1. First; I grabbed a pitcher of water off of the empty table behind me and a couple of empty drinks and beer bottles to use as dummy receptacles,

   2. I filled them up half way as I squeezed my way to the front of the line by tapping each patron that was in front of me on the opposite shoulder from which I was approaching. As they turned around to face the opposite direction from me, I slipped right past them quietly.

   3. I took enough of the dummy drinks up to the main bar, from the and UN-bussed table tops to cover the amount of patrons that were bellied up to the main bar and (apparently not giving a shit). One by one, I filled each one of their dumbasses drinks up a quarter or more (with fucking water!!!); giving the appearance of a drink that was tended to. I then strategically and nonchalantly placed them in front of as many of the patrons as I could within arms reach when they had their backs turned. This gives the appearance of each one of the patrons having a drink in front of them that doesn't need refilling.

    

   A bartender's main objective is to serve the patrons that don't have a drink directly in front of them. These are the first people that we serve as a bar tender, and then we go from there. So seeing as how I was the only one at the bar in this situation that was rendered “drink-less”, I was the first to be served. That is called winning son, learn about it.

The four of us had managed to get a table right in the center of the main floor which was down a mere 4 stairs from the bar. The layout of the club was simple: there were two bars exactly across the square and simple dance floor from each other. The drinks that they served us on this fine Hallow's eve were bright red and they called it“Satan's blood” these drinks were served in a silver chalice and tasted a bit like maraschino cherries. They were potent but delicious!

The costumes that most of the patrons of this fine establishment were wearing.... were amazing and spectacular! Most of them were relatively gothic. I felt rather inadequate in my goofy lederhosen sitting next to the ginger St. Pauli girl. Although we matched, I still had about as much interest in her as I would by receiving a “Happy Ending” massage from Freddy Krueger.

After the 4^th round of “Satans blood” and a few 151 based shots that also simulated blood (and also tasted like maraschino cherries), I was feeling saucy enough to hit the dance floor with miss Ginger-vitus.

All 4 of us got up and danced right in front of our table. The place was packed, so we decided that it was imperative to stay close to our table to avoid a full blown table robbing.

Ginger and I danced closely but, I was basically looking over her shoulder to find the next victim the whole time. I must have looked everywhere in the room except at my date. One would think when a guy has the toxicity of a Czech Republic prostitute he could stay focused on the date that was a sure thing.....unfortunately...I had gone in to “Hef mode”

Not to say that Alisha was repulsive, but she was frail, pasty, melancholy and worst of all....a ginger. As I was looking over her shoulder for something more fun and attractive, Satan's blood kicked in and we were making out almost instantly. Even while our lips were locked I was peering around the dance floor to try and find a single available woman. Alisha was cute but the whole time we were making out, I pretended she was Jeannie Marie. That may have been the only reason that I made out with her.

As I was locking lips with the female version of carrot top and scoping my surroundings I realized that it was difficult to accurately judge the true hotness of the girls in the club due to their costumes. Luckily I have the ability to undress any girl with my eyes and know exactly what to expect. I can even give an accurate detailed description of their face without make up.....most of the time. This certainly wasn't my first Halloween rodeo, so cutting off the make up and seeing them a-la-plain-faced should be easy right?

There were a lot of chubby bunnies and some frail heroin junkie types that were wearing full prosthetic masks....which usually means that the unfortunate combination of genetic failure that was...”their actual face” was scarier than the mask that they had used to cover it.

I twirled her around the dance floor casually so I could get a better look at our surroundings. My eyes were busier than a beehive on meth.

AH HAH!!! My drunken eyes finally spotted something beautiful in the distance. It was a pale faced Vampiress. She had great blood red lips and eyes that were so dark brown that they actually appeared black. She appeared to be Latina...which is sort of my Kryptonite...next to cheerleaders and hooters girls.

I put my jacket on and changed my hat...to slightly change my ridiculous appearance and allow myself to go into “Hef mode”.

I literally just walked away from Alisha, mid-dance...half way through a twirl. My eyes were now focused on this amazing vampiress. I was trapped in her tractor beam and sucked in without any possibility of escaping. The music stopped in my mind and the 15 gallons of alcohol that had been pumping through my system no longer mattered. I was a man, she was a woman...and a hot one!

I will never try to tell you that I am a master of opening line tact, but I can break the ice pretty easily... especially when the receiving end is both single and wasted as fuck. She had only glanced at me for a second while I was dancing with what's-her-ginger. But that was enough for me to know that I was in fact noticed.

Hef: Hi i'm Hef (I said with a smile)

When she spoke, her vampire fangs showed; giving me the chills...but they were awesome chills! Her fangs weren't your average two dollar Halloween fangs that you occasionally might find on the clearance rack after Halloween at Wal-Mart and after realizing that they don't actually fit; you end up slobbering all over as you pull them out . These were permanent fangs....and fucking sexy.

(Even a judge would be like: “Bro, I'd hit that like a pinata”)

We had the usual boring “What do you do?”, “What do you like to do for fun?” conversation, and frankly I forgot all about it. What I really wanted to know was, how she got those beautiful fangs and why?

She said that she needed some dental work done....blah blah blah...so she decided to get fangs instead. Because fangs are fucking awesome!.

Me:Do guys ever get intimidated to kiss you because of your fangs?

Vampiress: Actually ya, no guy has had the balls to try to kiss me since I had them done a couple of weeks ago.

She looked at me straight in the eyes, her eyes scared me in a good way. My whole body was entranced in her beauty and her eyes kept me wanting more. She stood up, and it started to feel like she was reciting something from a sci-fi movie.

She said “only the strong willed, true men are allowed to kiss me”. “You can not be frightened”

“Are your frightened?”

Hef: Fuck no, you're hot....lets get busy!

I grabbed her foxy little body by her thighs. She was thick but curvy. I snatched her right out of her seat and and pulled her next to me. We locked lips and it was amazing! I had enough of “Satans blood” in my system to go the extra mile and I proceeded to lick the incredible fangs that she had in her mouth while our lips were locked. It was incredible! They weren't incredibly sharp like I had imagined they would be. They felt more or less like my own canines but longer.

I ended up sitting with her for most of the night. We were whispering sweet nothings into each others ear while sharing multiple rounds of “Satan's Blood” and smooching until last call. I noticed Alisha dancing by herself out of the corner of my eye and felt a little bit of guilt. I was pretty sure that Alisha had no expectations when Jeannie hooked us up (I sure as fuck didn't). I Ignored her and kept my focus on the Gorgeous Vampiress that was whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

After it was quite clear that no more alcohol was going to be served to any of us, I went back to the table with Jeannie, Erick and Carrot Top to split a pitcher of water and figure out exactly how we were going to finish out the rest of our evenings. I was starting to go into Blackout mode, and needed to crash immediately. But before I did, I needed to brag about my date with the vampiress.

Hef: Dude! Did you see that hot vampire chick I was making out with?!? Holy Sheeottt!!

Bwahahahaha!!!! The whole table erupted with laughter. Alisha in particular was laughing so hard that she started coughing uncontrollably as she almost fell off of her chair. Jeannie looked over at Erick and said, “Should we tell him?”

I was confused, and convinced that they were going to tell me some story about this hot vampire chick biting someone on the neck or something.

Hef: “Tell me what?” I asked. (Still floating on cloud nine).

Jeannie: “Did she ever tell you her name?”

Hef: oh yeah its ughhh.uhhhh.....oooooh....no, I guess she didn't. Do you know her?

Jeannie: Yup

Erick: mmmmmhmmmm.

Alisha: (still laughing in hysterics) Yah!

Hef: So, whats her deal? Is she single? Why are you all laughing?

Jeannie: Hef; The “Vampiress” (actually making the sign for quotation with her fingers)  you have been making out with for the last hour is a Dude. His name is Justin, and he isn't even gay....just super drunk.

The lights turned on throughout the whole building and as drunk as I was, I could see the Vampiress clearly. To me she still looked like a pretty girl from a distance, but I was able to make out more details on her face and body that I couldn't see when the lights were dimmed, I could clearly define an Adam's apple, and a little bit of 5'oclock shaddow. Sadly these are pretty heavy determining facts that i was unable to identify during the flashing of the strobe lights that were in syncopation with the fast, heavy  music. 

My beautiful vampiress, was in fact a man. A straight....drunk.... man.

I wish I could end on that note and say “...and that was one really bad date”. But, it wasn't over yet. I had just excused myself to the bathroom of the club after the news of my mistaken-vampiress's-identity demise had just been broken to me. I then proceeded to finger-force-vomit all over the handicap parking spot in the parking lot of the club. The club owner just so happened to have seen me after I had painted his beloved handicap parking spot. As I was passing out with my head on the curb the manager had notified Jeannie, Erick and Alisha of my whereabouts and they were directed to pick my seemingly lifeless body up and hurl my dumb ass into a cab. Apparently, the three of them had to literally carry me up the 3 flights of stairs to Jeannie and Erick's condo. Alisha and I were slated to sleep on the floor of Jeannie and Erick's large walk in closet, on a blow up mattress that we had set up in advance. This blow up mattress happened to be located right next to their Cat's litter box.

The next morning, I woke up naked and alone. Alisha, Jeannie and Erick all had to work that morning. This wouldn't have been a problem if all of my clothes hadn't fallen off of the coat rack and landed in the cat-litter box where they had gotten soiled by Jeannie and Erick's cats.

To make matters worse....the cats apparently had a distaste for my clothing after they had soiled it all,  and decided to soil the floor....which is exactly where my head was laying as I woke up the day after Halloween 2008. Hungover, violated and covered in cat piss. I never did tell Jeannie and Erick about my little debacle with their cat's bathroom, but I did make a suggestion at their wedding.....

….And that my friends, was one really bad date.