I'm wrapping this bad boy up today! Click here if you need a refresher.
Like I said, I’m not entirely sure what went down while I was running for my life, but from the bits and pieces I can gather Valentina tried to unsuccessfully pin down the Fucktard Sister, the group of guys at our table just sat there half stunned, half turned on that a real honest-to-god girl fight was unfolding right before them, and Keely took off trying to find some help.
By the time I had reached the stage and the safety of the Hubby, Keely had alerted security to the situation and was trying to lead the bouncers through to the direction of the Fucktard Sisters. The Hubby, pretty fucking mad two crazy chicks were trying to kill his wife, threw his drumsticks down and charged to the front of the stage. Hearing the drums suddenly stop the rest of the four guys in the band looked behind them to see what the hell was going on. They were able to figure it out just in time to get out of the way while the Hubby took the microphone to address security.
“This crazy bitch here, and that crazy bitch there. Get them the fuck out of this bar right goddamn NOW.”
The bouncers were being led through the crowd by Keely who was trying to direct traffic and move the people on the dance floor out of the way.
From my view on stage all of a sudden I saw a huge bouncer come up behind each Fucktard Sister, grab them around the waist and haul them each – kicking, screaming and massive hair flying - out of the bar. Keely was standing front and centre, laughing hysterically while giving each one of them the finger. I’m pretty sure that if they would have managed to free themselves from the bouncers Keely would have been their next target.
So there we were. On stage in front of 300 stunned people, the Fucktard Sisters were being hauled out by giant men while screaming profanities, Keely was still giving the double birdies to each one of them, the band stood silent while they tried to figure out what in the hell was going on, and I was in the middle of the stage with a crowd of people (most of whom I knew) staring up at me. After a moment or two of awkward, the band decides to start up again with ‘We are the Champions’ and the crowd goes wild. I stayed up there for a moment, waving at the Fucktard Sisters (who were about halfway out of the bar at this point and still completely wigging out) and savoring my victory. My victory over the fact that not only can I run faster than they can, but I have friends who are good in a crisis. My one and only bar fight in the history books.
I know there were a bunch of you waiting to hear all about the ass kicking they took at the hands of me and Keely, but……. we’re Canadian. That’s just not how we roll.
Epilogue -
This happened about twelve years ago. Our city is not that big, and while the Fucktard Sisters and I don’t exactly frequent the same type of establishments, I am still to this day on the semi-lookout for that giant hair. I haven’t ever seen the youngest one (the one who hit me in the face), but I’ve seen the oldest one twice. The first time I saw her was in a mall and I managed to see the hair coming over the crowd in time to avoid a pass by in the aisle. The second time……. she was getting into a bar fight.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
FoN and Superkeely vs. the Fucktard Sisters - Part IV
The saga of my one and only bar fight continues. If you need to catch up a go read these.
She started to drunkenly charge through the bar immediately. I tried to stop laughing, because at that point I was terrified, but on her way over to my table she crashed into the corner of a chair and fell over. She was only down for a second or two when her giant hair shot back up and she resumed stumbling my direction. Amazingly, she was still clinging to her beer bottle.
Sitting at our table was a group of our male friends. To put it mildly, these guys are giant pussies. They are white collar dudes who avoid confrontation at all costs so not to get their polo shirts dirty. I had given them a general overview of the Fucktard Sister situation earlier in the night, but aside from cracking a few jokes they had long since forgot about it and were not at all concerned for my safety. I knew they would be no help whatsoever.
Realizing I only had seconds to live, I did a quick scan of the bar trying to locate a bouncer, an exit sign, Scotty waiting to beam me up, a bookshelf that if you pull the right book it leads to a secret passageway, anything that might help get me out of this. Nadda. Crap! Here she comes………..
“Whase so fucken funny? Youwannagobitch?”
“Um, no. I do not want to go. Are you okay? That looked like a nasty spill you just took back there.”
That's when the Fucktard Sister leaned across the table and swung at my head with her beer bottle. I was a little tipsy by this point, so my reaction time was not that great. I did manage to get out of the way enough that she didn’t knock me unconscious, but the beer bottle/fist combo still connected with my face just under my left eye.
Ow. The only thing I remember going through my head at that moment was RUN. Right as I took off I saw out of the corner of my eye that Valentina reappeared from behind the Fucktard Sister and was trying to restrain her from leaping over the table to kill me. I bolted.
I started running through the bar trying to find a bouncer. The band was pretty popular by then and usually at least once a show some stupid drunk girl would try to get on stage to grope one of the guys. Consequently, they often had security hanging around the dance floor area. I gave a quick glance over my shoulder to see if the Fucktard Sister was in hot pursuit or if the table of people I was with managed to restrain her. No such luck. As I looked behind me I could see that she had managed to free herself from Valentina (no surprise there, Valentina weights about 100 pounds) and with beer bottle and giant hair a-blazin’ was coming to get me.
You must remember a few things here. First of all, the band had been playing all night long so the band guys didn’t fully get what was going down. Secondly, the bar was filled with people I know. I didn’t tell them all exactly what was developing throughout the course of the evening because some of the people there were acquaintances and I really didn't want them to know I was in danger of getting into a bar fight. People from work, for example. I had a professional job and I didn’t think a drunk-bitch bar fight would really do wonders for advancing my career or reputation.
Anyway, back to the running. I was grateful Valentina managed to give me a bit of head start because clearly the Fucktard Sister was in it to win it. Thank god I was familiar with that bar because I knew exactly how to weasel my way through the crowd, tables and dance floor to try to get to security. There was a DJ booth right beside the stage, so I headed straight for it. Yeah, I know a DJ wasn’t really what I needed at that moment, but I figured bar staff of any form would improve my situation. I mean, they worked there, so they were sort of obligated to help me, no? As it turns out, not really, no.
I made it to the DJ booth! I started banging on the door - “Hey! Let me in! Some crazed fugly drunk and hairy chick is trying to kill me!! Let me in goddamn it! GAH! She’s coming!! For FUCK sakes open the fucking door!!!!”
Dude just starred through the glass at me pointing to his ear, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.
“Yeah, I know you can’t hear me, there is a FUCKING ROCK BAND playing three feet away. Isn’t my crying and flailing enough for you to think you should open the door anyway?” FUCKER! Wait a minute…there is a rock band playing three feet away! Hubby!!
Without the aid of the 20 year-old DJ (fucker), no bouncer in sight and nowhere else to go, I jumped on stage and ran behind the drum kit. Mid song.
The band was on stage kicking ass when I ran up behind the Hubby all out of breath. He kept drumming, but looked at me and mouthed, “What’s up?”
I pointed at the front of the stage. I’m not exactly sure what went down while I was running for my life, but all I saw at that moment was Fucktard Sister 1 (the one that smacked me in the face) struggling through the crowd trying to get up to the left of the stage, and Fucktard Sister 2 (I had sort of forgot about her) struggling through the crowd to get up to the right of the stage. The band was still playing.
That’s when I saw Keely.
She started to drunkenly charge through the bar immediately. I tried to stop laughing, because at that point I was terrified, but on her way over to my table she crashed into the corner of a chair and fell over. She was only down for a second or two when her giant hair shot back up and she resumed stumbling my direction. Amazingly, she was still clinging to her beer bottle.
Sitting at our table was a group of our male friends. To put it mildly, these guys are giant pussies. They are white collar dudes who avoid confrontation at all costs so not to get their polo shirts dirty. I had given them a general overview of the Fucktard Sister situation earlier in the night, but aside from cracking a few jokes they had long since forgot about it and were not at all concerned for my safety. I knew they would be no help whatsoever.
Realizing I only had seconds to live, I did a quick scan of the bar trying to locate a bouncer, an exit sign, Scotty waiting to beam me up, a bookshelf that if you pull the right book it leads to a secret passageway, anything that might help get me out of this. Nadda. Crap! Here she comes………..
“Whase so fucken funny? Youwannagobitch?”
“Um, no. I do not want to go. Are you okay? That looked like a nasty spill you just took back there.”
That's when the Fucktard Sister leaned across the table and swung at my head with her beer bottle. I was a little tipsy by this point, so my reaction time was not that great. I did manage to get out of the way enough that she didn’t knock me unconscious, but the beer bottle/fist combo still connected with my face just under my left eye.
Ow. The only thing I remember going through my head at that moment was RUN. Right as I took off I saw out of the corner of my eye that Valentina reappeared from behind the Fucktard Sister and was trying to restrain her from leaping over the table to kill me. I bolted.
I started running through the bar trying to find a bouncer. The band was pretty popular by then and usually at least once a show some stupid drunk girl would try to get on stage to grope one of the guys. Consequently, they often had security hanging around the dance floor area. I gave a quick glance over my shoulder to see if the Fucktard Sister was in hot pursuit or if the table of people I was with managed to restrain her. No such luck. As I looked behind me I could see that she had managed to free herself from Valentina (no surprise there, Valentina weights about 100 pounds) and with beer bottle and giant hair a-blazin’ was coming to get me.
You must remember a few things here. First of all, the band had been playing all night long so the band guys didn’t fully get what was going down. Secondly, the bar was filled with people I know. I didn’t tell them all exactly what was developing throughout the course of the evening because some of the people there were acquaintances and I really didn't want them to know I was in danger of getting into a bar fight. People from work, for example. I had a professional job and I didn’t think a drunk-bitch bar fight would really do wonders for advancing my career or reputation.
Anyway, back to the running. I was grateful Valentina managed to give me a bit of head start because clearly the Fucktard Sister was in it to win it. Thank god I was familiar with that bar because I knew exactly how to weasel my way through the crowd, tables and dance floor to try to get to security. There was a DJ booth right beside the stage, so I headed straight for it. Yeah, I know a DJ wasn’t really what I needed at that moment, but I figured bar staff of any form would improve my situation. I mean, they worked there, so they were sort of obligated to help me, no? As it turns out, not really, no.
I made it to the DJ booth! I started banging on the door - “Hey! Let me in! Some crazed fugly drunk and hairy chick is trying to kill me!! Let me in goddamn it! GAH! She’s coming!! For FUCK sakes open the fucking door!!!!”
Dude just starred through the glass at me pointing to his ear, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.
“Yeah, I know you can’t hear me, there is a FUCKING ROCK BAND playing three feet away. Isn’t my crying and flailing enough for you to think you should open the door anyway?” FUCKER! Wait a minute…there is a rock band playing three feet away! Hubby!!
Without the aid of the 20 year-old DJ (fucker), no bouncer in sight and nowhere else to go, I jumped on stage and ran behind the drum kit. Mid song.
The band was on stage kicking ass when I ran up behind the Hubby all out of breath. He kept drumming, but looked at me and mouthed, “What’s up?”
I pointed at the front of the stage. I’m not exactly sure what went down while I was running for my life, but all I saw at that moment was Fucktard Sister 1 (the one that smacked me in the face) struggling through the crowd trying to get up to the left of the stage, and Fucktard Sister 2 (I had sort of forgot about her) struggling through the crowd to get up to the right of the stage. The band was still playing.
That’s when I saw Keely.
Random Tuesday - I'm BACK baby
I honestly don’t know what has come over me with the Fucktard Sister trilogy. I just can’t seem to stop writing it. Aside from a few minor creative liberties here and there, it's a true story, but I had no idea it would take on a life of it's own. Odd, considering I really haven’t thought about that incident much in the subsequent years. Whatever, I’m really enjoying writing it for some reason and it’s my blog, so there. I guess fucking with the fucktards never gets old. I'm wrapping it up this week though, for sure. Honest.
My daughter has to go to summer school because she failed grade ten Science. That kind of blows, especially considering I either have to (a) go on holidays without her and leave her with her grandparents for a week or (b) postpone my vacation. Neither scenario is really appealing to me. Dumbass. You know, I’d feel better about it if she actually was a dumbass, because then she couldn’t help flunking. But she’s not a dumbass, she just only attends the classes she likes (and gets 80’s in those). As it turns out if you don’t attend class and never hand in assignments, you fail. Funny that.
Shut up Keely. I wasn’t hanging out at A&W alone you know.
I have to get my son’s teacher a kick-ass present for the end of the year, but I can’t think of a good one that doesn’t cost a fortune. My boy is a complicated soul, and this woman gets him. She is awesome and I love her to bits. Suggestions are welcome.
I wonder what’s for dinner? I think I’m going to hide all the mushroom soup cans the Hubby keeps buying.
We had an outdoor cinema night on the weekend and it was awesome! The Hubby found an old LCD projector at a garage sale, hooked it up to the stereo and DVD player, hung a white sheet off the deck as a screen and voila! We grabbed lots of blankets, pillows, snacks and drinks and had a little movie night on the lawn in the backyard. It was totally cool and we’re going to make it a regular thing. As long as I get to pick the next movie. The boy and the Hubby came back from the video store with Mall Cop for crying out loud.
I have no concerts planned for this summer. Last year I saw Lenny Kravitz, Stone Temple Pilots, the Tragically Hip, Rush (I am Canadian, eh), Elton John and Neil Young. This year, nada. AC/DC is coming here in August, but I hate them. Where the hell are all the other good bands this year? Maybe I’ll just rent a DVD concert and watch it in my backyard. Do you think the Hubby will let me sit on his shoulders and flash my boobs at the neighbours?
I'm very upset Jon and Kate are getting divorced. I'm very VERY upset that I give a shit that Jon and Kate are getting divorced. Hopefully Brangelina can hang in there.
Alright, that’s enough. It’s my first Tuesday back in a while; I don’t want to over do it. Today’s post was brought to you by the Un Mom. Thanks for the purge, Keely. And I don’t even have to go brush my teeth.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Fat Chick vs. Food - Week Twenty Two
I’m still pretty much sucking in the weight loss department but I have a good reason. I’m a newlywed!! Okay, so not really in the chronological sense, but for the first time ever the Hubby is no longer working evenings. This is major in our house.
The Hubby has had an evening job in one form or another since we were married almost fifteen years ago, and other than the odd mat leave here and there, I have had a day job my whole working life. Throw three kids into this mix, and it has not been easy. Given our history of scheduling problems it’s a miracle that we’re still married at all, never mind managing to survive it without coming out the other side saying, “Who the hell are you?”
Hubby graduated university with an education degree after a long six years the beginning of June, and once he secured a teaching position for this fall he left his night job waiting tables so he could stay home with the kids for the summer and get his poop in a group to start his first real ‘career’ type job. Yeah, I’m stressed out about the money and how we’re going to pull this off for next three months, but fuck it. Having him home at night is AWESOME.
I come home from work each day and not only is dinner made, but a glass of wine is waiting for me. The laundry is done and my yard looks like I’ve hired a landscaper. The kids are not screaming at me because I haven’t managed to put a full meal in front of them within 30 seconds of arriving at home, and I don’t have to go madly searching around the house trying to find the gear they need for whatever activity we need to dash off to.
Aside from all the obvious conveniences of having a parent home during the day to deal with daily life, having the Hubby home at night to just hang out with is way more fun than I ever thought it would be. It turns out I actually like this dude. A lot.
So Fat Chick is not rocking the gym that much lately because when I get home from work I don’t want to turn around and leave again. I want to hang out with my husband. The husband who gives me wine. The husband who covers every dish he cooks in cream of mushroom soup. The husband who thinks salads are for wussies. The husband who is finally at home every night and makes me happy.
I’m not abandoning all hope for continued weight loss, I’m still kinda sorta hanging in there. I did turn down a hot fudge sundae yesterday. That’s something, right?
I gained a pound this week. I wonder how slippery this slope is exactly?
The Hubby has had an evening job in one form or another since we were married almost fifteen years ago, and other than the odd mat leave here and there, I have had a day job my whole working life. Throw three kids into this mix, and it has not been easy. Given our history of scheduling problems it’s a miracle that we’re still married at all, never mind managing to survive it without coming out the other side saying, “Who the hell are you?”
Hubby graduated university with an education degree after a long six years the beginning of June, and once he secured a teaching position for this fall he left his night job waiting tables so he could stay home with the kids for the summer and get his poop in a group to start his first real ‘career’ type job. Yeah, I’m stressed out about the money and how we’re going to pull this off for next three months, but fuck it. Having him home at night is AWESOME.
I come home from work each day and not only is dinner made, but a glass of wine is waiting for me. The laundry is done and my yard looks like I’ve hired a landscaper. The kids are not screaming at me because I haven’t managed to put a full meal in front of them within 30 seconds of arriving at home, and I don’t have to go madly searching around the house trying to find the gear they need for whatever activity we need to dash off to.
Aside from all the obvious conveniences of having a parent home during the day to deal with daily life, having the Hubby home at night to just hang out with is way more fun than I ever thought it would be. It turns out I actually like this dude. A lot.
So Fat Chick is not rocking the gym that much lately because when I get home from work I don’t want to turn around and leave again. I want to hang out with my husband. The husband who gives me wine. The husband who covers every dish he cooks in cream of mushroom soup. The husband who thinks salads are for wussies. The husband who is finally at home every night and makes me happy.
I’m not abandoning all hope for continued weight loss, I’m still kinda sorta hanging in there. I did turn down a hot fudge sundae yesterday. That’s something, right?
I gained a pound this week. I wonder how slippery this slope is exactly?
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