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.
Showing posts with label fucktard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fucktard. Show all posts
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.
Friday, June 19, 2009
FoN and Superkeely vs. the Fucktard Sisters - Part III
I know - I’m sorry. This is morphing into a long one. It didn’t start out that way, but I’m on a roll now so you’re just going to have to come along for the ride. If you are just joining us, Part 1 is here, and Part 2 is here.
At some point during the evening Keely came up beside me with a good question.
“When was the last time you saw Valentina?”
“Ummm…...that is a good question. I’m not sure. Is she in the bathroom? Better yet, are the Fucktard Sisters still here?”
Keely and I looked at each other for a moment, collectively rolled our eyes and set off to find Valentina. We got about half way through the bar when a friend of ours stopped us to ask who the girl with giant hair was Valentina was talking to on the deck.
I think this is the point in the evening I realized there was no way I was getting out of this situation unscathed. Hmmmm. This was a tough call. If I went outside to see what was going on with Valentina and the Fucktard Sister I knew for sure she was going to come right at me. If I stayed inside and out of her way, I was hanging Valentina out to dry.
“Were they just talking, like…normal talking? Or was it more like yelling and scary talking?” I asked.
“Well, at one point Valentina looked like she was going to start crying, but then the chick with the giant hair gave her a hug.”
Oh, for the luva…… here is another thing you need to know about Valentina. She gives everyone the benefit of the doubt in every single situation. I could go to her house and burn down her garage one day and she would tell me that while she wishes I wouldn’t have sprayed gasoline all over her stuff and set it on fire, she's sure I must have had a good reason so she forgives me. Valentina is really one of the last pure good souls. God only knows what the Fucktard Sister was saying to her, but whatever it was it led Valentina to believe that everything was going to be a-okay. Yeah, not so much.
Once Keely and I realized the Fucktard Sister was not going to mess with Valentina, we made our way back through the bar and joined a table of people sitting near the back on the far left side of the stage. I had filled the Hubby in on the developing Fucktard Sister state of affairs while the band was on their last break, but I played down the situation a little. I didn’t want to worry him since there was little he would be able to do while trapped behind a drum kit all night anyway. Also, at the last break I hadn’t seen them in a while so the Fucktard Sister alert was only at DEFCON 4. After the Valentina/Fucktard Sister deck exchange the situation had taken a leap to DECFON 2 and I had a sinking feeling it was quickly approaching 1.
I took my seat at the table with my back to the wall so I could have a birds eye view of any approaching drunk and fugly lunatics. It only took one sip of my drink to catch a glimpse of her over the rim of the glass. The youngest Fucktard sister (not the one talking to Valentina on the deck, the other one), was shooting me a drunk chick version of the Zoolander Blue Steel stare.
I tried to act casual, and I even put my head under the table when I started laughing. I know laughing at her was just poking the bear, but I really couldn’t help it. Picture this –
with giant teased hair and heavy black eyeliner wearing a tank top three sizes too small with a huge stain of spilled beer down the front.
Keely joined me under the table long enough to inquire what the hell I was doing under there.
“Ummm…well, I’m avoiding making eye contact with Headbanger Charo over there – 3 o’clock.”
“Where?” Keely asked, as her head snapped up and whipped around to the general direction of the Fucktard Sister. “Oh, HA!” “Bwaaahahahahahaha, that is FUNNY”.
That was it – I just couldn’t help it anymore. Keely’s reaction, the cocktails and the absolute absurdity of the situation made me totally lose it and I started laughing hysterically. As it turns out, that was the green light the Fucktard Sister was waiting for.
At some point during the evening Keely came up beside me with a good question.
“When was the last time you saw Valentina?”
“Ummm…...that is a good question. I’m not sure. Is she in the bathroom? Better yet, are the Fucktard Sisters still here?”
Keely and I looked at each other for a moment, collectively rolled our eyes and set off to find Valentina. We got about half way through the bar when a friend of ours stopped us to ask who the girl with giant hair was Valentina was talking to on the deck.
I think this is the point in the evening I realized there was no way I was getting out of this situation unscathed. Hmmmm. This was a tough call. If I went outside to see what was going on with Valentina and the Fucktard Sister I knew for sure she was going to come right at me. If I stayed inside and out of her way, I was hanging Valentina out to dry.
“Were they just talking, like…normal talking? Or was it more like yelling and scary talking?” I asked.
“Well, at one point Valentina looked like she was going to start crying, but then the chick with the giant hair gave her a hug.”
Oh, for the luva…… here is another thing you need to know about Valentina. She gives everyone the benefit of the doubt in every single situation. I could go to her house and burn down her garage one day and she would tell me that while she wishes I wouldn’t have sprayed gasoline all over her stuff and set it on fire, she's sure I must have had a good reason so she forgives me. Valentina is really one of the last pure good souls. God only knows what the Fucktard Sister was saying to her, but whatever it was it led Valentina to believe that everything was going to be a-okay. Yeah, not so much.
Once Keely and I realized the Fucktard Sister was not going to mess with Valentina, we made our way back through the bar and joined a table of people sitting near the back on the far left side of the stage. I had filled the Hubby in on the developing Fucktard Sister state of affairs while the band was on their last break, but I played down the situation a little. I didn’t want to worry him since there was little he would be able to do while trapped behind a drum kit all night anyway. Also, at the last break I hadn’t seen them in a while so the Fucktard Sister alert was only at DEFCON 4. After the Valentina/Fucktard Sister deck exchange the situation had taken a leap to DECFON 2 and I had a sinking feeling it was quickly approaching 1.
I took my seat at the table with my back to the wall so I could have a birds eye view of any approaching drunk and fugly lunatics. It only took one sip of my drink to catch a glimpse of her over the rim of the glass. The youngest Fucktard sister (not the one talking to Valentina on the deck, the other one), was shooting me a drunk chick version of the Zoolander Blue Steel stare.
I tried to act casual, and I even put my head under the table when I started laughing. I know laughing at her was just poking the bear, but I really couldn’t help it. Picture this –
with giant teased hair and heavy black eyeliner wearing a tank top three sizes too small with a huge stain of spilled beer down the front.
Keely joined me under the table long enough to inquire what the hell I was doing under there.
“Ummm…well, I’m avoiding making eye contact with Headbanger Charo over there – 3 o’clock.”
“Where?” Keely asked, as her head snapped up and whipped around to the general direction of the Fucktard Sister. “Oh, HA!” “Bwaaahahahahahaha, that is FUNNY”.
That was it – I just couldn’t help it anymore. Keely’s reaction, the cocktails and the absolute absurdity of the situation made me totally lose it and I started laughing hysterically. As it turns out, that was the green light the Fucktard Sister was waiting for.
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Superkeely vs. the Fucktard Sisters - Part I
Valentina got married really young to a complete asshole. This guy was the poster boy for abusive douche bags. He would assign her a curfew whenever she went anywhere without him, controlled who she was allowed to talk to and hangout with, manipulated her family against her, blah, blah, blah. Unfortunately, I’m sure most of you know the type I’m talking about. Needless to say, he hated my guts.
Not surprisingly the marriage didn’t last long and she cut him lose shortly after their first wedding anniversary. This pleased me to no end, especially since by that point I wasn’t allowed in her house anymore. This guy – let’s call him Fucktard – was devastated when Valentina left him. Fucktard was a Captain America type who thought he was the greatest thing to ever walk the earth and was incensed that his wife would have the gall to leave him. He set about trying to get her back, and when that didn’t work he decided he was going to ruin her and everyone around her. Since he gave Valentina no credit for having her own brain, he decided it was my fault his marriage ended. His controlling, obsessive and abusive behaviour had nothing to do with it, of course. He convinced himself, his family, Valentina’s family and anyone else that would listen that I corrupted Valentina and brainwashed her into leaving him. Trust me, if that was possible I would have done it before she married him.
The whole brouhaha surrounding the period of time Valentina was trying to free herself from Fucktard is a long story, but let me just say it went on for months. Fucktard would routinely call me at all hours trying to track her down, park outside my house waiting for me to come home so we could ‘talk’ (in a vain and brief attempt to get me on side, since I was the one controlling her, remember), and he even tried to convince her family (and was briefly successful) that I was a drug dealer who had hooked her on drugs. Yeah, I know. It was all very Days of our Lives. I am not one of those individuals who courts drama, so the whole thing was a major pain in my ass.
Fucktard comes from a redneck family who is…….let’s just say quite lacking in basic social graces. They are the type of people who say ‘I seen it’ and put an ‘s’ on the word ‘all’. They have giant hair and are almost always covered in bruises, cuts and have missing teeth (the men and the women). I don’t recall ever going to any of their trailers, but a hundred bucks says there would be a rusted out 1980’s model camero parked on the lawn. Oh, yes. A very charming bunch indeed. How does all of this tie into the Keely bar fight incident you ask? Well, Fucktard has two sisters.
These girls were pretty much violent, hairier versions of Fucktard. I did feel a little bad for them (the younger one showed up to Valentina and Fucktard’s wedding beaten to a pulp, and the oldest one was a grandmother by age 34), but they didn’t exactly go out of their way to act like civilized adults. True, they may not have known how to act like civilized adults, but I don’t know……something like learning to read might have helped their lot in life a little. Their heads are gigantic; surely they could have used them for something other than backcombing hair.
Anyhoo, Fuckard had no problem convincing these two brain waves that it was all me – I was the sole reason Valentina left him, and I needed to be dealt with accordingly.
Not surprisingly the marriage didn’t last long and she cut him lose shortly after their first wedding anniversary. This pleased me to no end, especially since by that point I wasn’t allowed in her house anymore. This guy – let’s call him Fucktard – was devastated when Valentina left him. Fucktard was a Captain America type who thought he was the greatest thing to ever walk the earth and was incensed that his wife would have the gall to leave him. He set about trying to get her back, and when that didn’t work he decided he was going to ruin her and everyone around her. Since he gave Valentina no credit for having her own brain, he decided it was my fault his marriage ended. His controlling, obsessive and abusive behaviour had nothing to do with it, of course. He convinced himself, his family, Valentina’s family and anyone else that would listen that I corrupted Valentina and brainwashed her into leaving him. Trust me, if that was possible I would have done it before she married him.
The whole brouhaha surrounding the period of time Valentina was trying to free herself from Fucktard is a long story, but let me just say it went on for months. Fucktard would routinely call me at all hours trying to track her down, park outside my house waiting for me to come home so we could ‘talk’ (in a vain and brief attempt to get me on side, since I was the one controlling her, remember), and he even tried to convince her family (and was briefly successful) that I was a drug dealer who had hooked her on drugs. Yeah, I know. It was all very Days of our Lives. I am not one of those individuals who courts drama, so the whole thing was a major pain in my ass.
Fucktard comes from a redneck family who is…….let’s just say quite lacking in basic social graces. They are the type of people who say ‘I seen it’ and put an ‘s’ on the word ‘all’. They have giant hair and are almost always covered in bruises, cuts and have missing teeth (the men and the women). I don’t recall ever going to any of their trailers, but a hundred bucks says there would be a rusted out 1980’s model camero parked on the lawn. Oh, yes. A very charming bunch indeed. How does all of this tie into the Keely bar fight incident you ask? Well, Fucktard has two sisters.
These girls were pretty much violent, hairier versions of Fucktard. I did feel a little bad for them (the younger one showed up to Valentina and Fucktard’s wedding beaten to a pulp, and the oldest one was a grandmother by age 34), but they didn’t exactly go out of their way to act like civilized adults. True, they may not have known how to act like civilized adults, but I don’t know……something like learning to read might have helped their lot in life a little. Their heads are gigantic; surely they could have used them for something other than backcombing hair.
Anyhoo, Fuckard had no problem convincing these two brain waves that it was all me – I was the sole reason Valentina left him, and I needed to be dealt with accordingly.
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