Oops, I did it again

Men are pigs and women are bitches. I don't know which came first, but they sort of drive each other.

Tonight I went to the bar with my sister and a friend. It was a fundraiser event for the fire department so the place was swarming with firemen and fire skanks. The three of us were probably the only respectable women in the bar (at least we were the only ones who weren't acting like complete whores).

Full disclosure: my ex-fiancee is a firefighter. I know the culture pretty well--or at least well enough to know that I wouldn't hook up with another firefighter if he were the last man on earth. Even removing my boyfriend from the table, every man in the bar had a snowball's chance in hell with me. To signal this, I stuck my ring on my left hand--boom--I was married.

But firemen aren't know for their intelligence.

A fireman who knows my friend came up to our table and introductions were made.

This particular fireman was on duty, wearing a uniform and just "dropped by to check out the party." Yeah right. He dropped in wearing a uniform to see if he could tag a fireskank in between his off-duty friends taking turns. Dumdum had a certain penchant for doing this too--he preferred some bar called Orange Balls though.

Being who I am and having an audience and a little bit of cider in me, I smiled real sweetly and asked "did you bring your truck? Oh, can I have a tour?". I see his eyes light up like only a man's who is about to get a handjob in the backseat can and he leads me out of the bar.

At this point, everyone at the table thinks I'm pursuing him except for my sister who knows me too well and knows damn well that I am going to get to play on the engine for awhile and then the poor fireman is going to have to buy me a beer and then I am going to simply leave the bar without talking to him again. This is actually my favorite bar activity--hands down.

Sure enough, I go downstairs, spend about ten minutes playing with the lights and sirens and putting on turnout gear and generally entertaining myself and having a good time while fireman is practically licking his lips. Then I decide to drop the bomb on him:

Him: "So, you seem to know a lot about fire fighting, what did you, date a fireman or something?"
Me: [starting engine] "Nope, I was engaged to one."
Him: "One from [name of department which current fireman also works for]?"
Me: [turning lights on] "Yep."
Him: "Who?"
Me: [putting helmet on my head] "Not important. Hey, will you take my picture?"
Him: "So you two broke up or something?"
Me: [turning everything off] "Yeah, he wasn't ready for commitment and he got really fat--it is better this way."
Him: "Good for you, you should go out and get yourself a hot piece of something."

At this point, it is blatantly obvious that he is insinuating he is the "hot piece of something." Please.

Me: [climbing down from truck--in three inch heels, no less] "I already have one."
Him: "Oh?"
Me: [handing him his helmet] "Yeah, okay, well, thanks for the tour. That was fun. Bye!"

And I ran back into the bar.

An all-star night would have been if I got him to buy me and my six closest friends shots and give me cab money (I actually did that to some LTC once--and then the LTC ended up stationed at the same post as my boyfriend and we ran into him at a ball and THAT was awkward as hell), but unfortunately, there were only three of us and the bagpipes were on my nerves and I wanted to leave so I didn't even press this guy for a beer. I should have taken one for the team-I suck.

I Couldn't Care Less

More and more I am finding that bars in this area tend to be the biggest freak shows. Last night I left work early and ended up at dollar draft night with a couple of friends (I can never turn down cheap alcohol). After an hour or so, I found myself surrounded by the damn nerd herd. Anyway, I was feeling particularly stand-offish and just wanted to hang out with my friends.

The ringleader of the group seriously began to invade my personal space, blabbing about who-cares-what. I kept my eyes glued on the nearby TV screen. After about 10 minutes of his rambling, he noticed that I was not paying any attention to him, so he asked if I liked Sports Center (it was the show that was on at the time). I told him "Not a chance. It's just that I could not possibly be less interested in anything you have to say right now."

He started laughing! I couldn't believe it. He thought that it was a joke.

Seeing that this wasn't working, I then pulled out my cell phone and started texting all my friends, telling them that I was talking to the biggest loser in the world. I hoped that he would look over at what I was saying.

He may have, but that didn't stop him from talking to me. His only redeeming quality was that he was willing to throw down the plastic for my bar tab from before he arrived.

The rejection hotline was made for people like him. Although, he probably thinks that is all a joke too. What a moron.