Five days

Last night the lovely Mrs. my wife and I went out to eat a healthy dinner of chili nachos and beer at Hard Times. Ouch. Afterwards as we had babysitter time left on the clock we decided to go chill for a bit and she relented to going to the idiotic bar up the street with me. She has been there before as she is a patient and beautiful soul and indulges my penchant for sucky places and all of that but had not made an appearance at the yokels tavern for some time. So we get in and take the exact same seats that me and friend Jamie occupied the night of the maniacal brawl documented here several months back. We talked about that for a while and I gave her the play-by-play description with color commentary provided by the bartender that got pulled into the middle of the whole thing. It was fun. You would think that being there with her I would see the place through different eyes but it still looked like the same dump filled with the same desperate morons that it always has. It is consistent, I’ll give it that.

Anyway, parked next to us were two young and up and coming bar harridans slamming shots and generally being loud and ignorant. I overheard one say something to the other that took even me by surprise.

Hag in training 1 – “It’s so fucking awesome to be out drinking with you.”
Hag in training 2 – “No shit, ever since I got pregnant I’ve been waiting for this shit. (GULP)
Bartender – “So did you start smoking right after you had the baby?”
Hag in training 2 – “Well I can’t say I never smoked when I was pregnant but not all that much and ever since I got out of the hospital I’ve been smoking like a fiend”
Hag in training 1 – “FUCK YEAH!”
Bartender – “So how old is the baby now?”

Here comes the part that evoked a physical cringe from both of us.

Hag in training 2 – “Five days now, shit I couldn’t wait to get out.”

FIVE FUCKING DAYS?!?!?! Are you kidding me? I mean I probably won’t get parent of the year nominations any time soon but Jesus have a modicum of….something. I’m praying the goofy freak isn’t breastfeeding or the doomed to be a Bobcat operator offspring of hers was surely shitfaced drunk after the midnight feeding.

While I was typing this story out my neighbor Billy with the super TV and extra basement popped in to say hello. I was relating the story of five day baby and he told me about going up to the bar on St. Patrick’s Day. Some hammerhead saved his 90 year old mother a seat at the bar and they hung out getting wrecked with her while he lit up his and her smokes. What a son to do that. I mean it’s tough to light your own cigarettes when you’re 90 and hooked up to bottled oxygen.

I gotta get up there more often, it’s getting whackier by the day.