Thursday, June 18, 2009

FoN and Superkeely vs. the Fucktard Sisters - Part II

Continuing on with the Fucktard Family tales from yesterday.......(if you're not sure what I'm talking about, go here)

Right around the same period of time Valentina was going through her divorce my Hubby was a drummer in a moderately successful local rock band. They played bars around town and throughout the province every weekend. Since the band played so often, I developed friendships with the other ‘band wives’ and attending the shows was our main social activity.

Valentina started rediscovering her friendships and social life once she was free from Fucktard and able to leave her house unescorted, so she started coming out to gigs with us. Since she was hanging out with us and the band a lot more, Valentina (like all good newly separated women before her) started digging the musician scene and became quite enamored with the lead singer. While she hadn’t technically divorced Fucktard yet, they were separated and heading for divorce so she started pursuing Lead Singer with a vengeance. I did everything possible to advance that relationship because Lead Singer was a pretty decent guy, and the closer Valentina got to him the further away she ran from Fucktard. And, it made Fucktard very angry when he got wind of Valentina’s new object of affection, which was just straight up gravy to me.

One weekend the guys had a gig at a popular local bar and we had all decided to go and see the band play. And when I say all, I mean ALL. I invited everyone to that show – my family, friends, coworkers, the cashier at the grocery store, the guy that pumps my gas….you name it and I had probably invited it to see the show that night. The band wives piled over to my place for some pre-game activity and shortly after 10:00 pm we headed out to the show. We took longer at my house than we intended to, so by the time we finally got to the bar Valentina was already there and the guys were on stage in the middle of their first set. I had barely checked my coat when Valentina ran over to me with her ass on fire and yanked me around the corner. She was speaking in a tense, high-pitched tone that could only indicate clearly something was up with something.

“The Fucktard Sisters are here! They are IN. THE. BAR!”

“So?” I said. “It’s a big bar; we can steer clear of them. Besides, their hair is four feet high. I’ll keep an eye out and we’ll relocate if it starts bobbing this direction.”

“No, you don’t understand,” stressed Valentina. “Fucktard has told them you are responsible for destroying his family. They are not mad at ME, they’re mad at YOU.”

At this point in the evening I actually wasn’t all that worried. While I am definitely not one who courts drama, Valentina sure is. I love her to pieces, but she routinely gets herself involved with people and situations straight out of All My Children. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if it turns out she has the mailman’s love child locked in her attic. Considering this fact, I kind of pooh-poohed her.

“C’mon, it will be fine,” I said. “What are they going to do? Beat me up?” (That would be foreshadowing right there people. My high school English teacher would be so proud)

I gave Valentina the guy punch on the shoulder and made my way to the bar to get a cocktail. While I wasn’t exactly panicked, I did have the peripheral vision working double time scanning the crowd for that ridiculous hair. I had a simple strategy – make no eye contact whatsoever, and pretend that I had no idea they were even in the bar.

I started walking through the crowd hoping to find a table of people I knew or the other band wives quickly. I spotted Keely sitting at a large oblong table with a group of mutual friends and swiftly pulled up a chair. Keely immediately leaned over, “Did you see Valentina yet?”

“Of course. I barely had my coat off and she was all over me”

“Are they going to start anything you think?” asked Keely.

“I doubt it. I invited a lot of people here tonight. I know they’re stupid, but they’re not that stupid.”

Now, I’m going to interject here to explain that up until this point I have led a very violence-free life. I grew up in a nice community surrounded by reasonable and peaceful people who would never think to punch anyone. If you’ve been reading the blog for any amount of time I’m sure you have figured out by now that I’m actually kind of a hippy. I don’t fight. The idea of fighting anyone was so far out of my frame of reference that I really didn’t believe it actually ever happened in real life. Sure, on that ‘bad boys bad boys’ COPS show maybe, but I sort of assumed that was just an American thing (uh, no offense).

The night went on initially without incident. The band was kicking ass, a whole ton of people I knew showed up, we were dancing up a storm, I had a few more cocktails…..I had all but forgotten the Fucktard sisters were even there. That is until Valentina suddenly disappeared and we couldn’t find her anywhere.

7 comments:

Keely said...

Ha! Nice cliffhanger!

Blogging Mama Andrea said...

Come on! I wanna hear about some butt kicking. Staying tuned...

Stacy (the Random Cool Chick) said...

I had a sneaking suspicion that you were going to get me all involved in the story...then leave me hanging...again!! But as Keely pointed out last night, it's Karma, since I pretty much did that nine times with my 'background story'... But it still doesn't stop me from banging my head against the keyboard... :)

Ashlee said...

HAHAHA!! LOVING it!!! Bring on the part where ya kick some fucktard ass. I know ya have it in ya somewhere!!!

Shangrila said...

Sweet Jesus, you're killing me here!!!

steenky bee said...

Are you kidding me? You left me hanging here! I just re-read this thing twice because I loved it so much. The line about foreshadowing and Valentina getting herself involved in situations straight out of All My Children were priceless. I'm pretty sure of two things here: 1) I peed my pants a little while reading part 1&2, 2) I am on live with you a little bit.

Casey said...

I'm pretty sure it IS an American thing. Well, mostly a Floridian thing, all of the white trash news stories come from here.