Good gravy…now this is a redneck story for ya!
This weekend Nathan’s mom pleaded with us to go with her to a bar in Rome, GA, to see her “friend” who worked there. We reluctantly agreed, on the promise that they made a good, strong drink, and that there was a 90-year-old woman who frequented there and liked to grab butts.
On the way, we passed a joint funeral home and barbecue. It’s a sad thing they were closed, because the thought of barbecued people was starting to sound pretty good! Do you think they put embalming fluid in the sauce?
So, we get there, and it’s a damn honkytonk bingo bar for senior citizens. All the country music, mullets, and feathered bangs you could ever want. Not only that, but these were some horny geriatrics. There were old people bumping and grinding, grabbing butts and sagging breasts like they were in high school.
Watching this was like watching an hour-long commercial for Viagra.
Nathan’s mom is particularly impartial to country music. As soon as we walked in the door, she started wailing to anyone who would listen about how terrible the band was, and how she would NEVER be coming back!
She told the guy who invited her, who was completely smitten with her, that men who wore cowboy boots and hats were “queers.” I think the poor guy was horribly offended, considering his attire.
Another few more minutes, and she was ready to hang herself…by her hair.
Meanwhile, Nathan and I were finding the whole scene to be immensely hilarious, what with all the sexy old people that we wanted to take home with us. There was the woman whose boob fell UNDER her bra, and she was pulling it up from her knees back into her bra. There was the cute old man in suspenders who only danced by shaking balled fists, a dance I, a person with absolutely no rhythm, can really get behind. There was the 75-year-old woman wearing tight red Hannah Montana pants.
And then there were our designated dates for the evening, Country David and Dot.
The man in the very top photo is Country David, and if you’ll look into the left-hand corner of the photo, the woman in the blue spandex is Dot. Dot really had the hots for Nathan, running her fingers through his hair and trying to sweet-talk him. And Country David was just my dream come true. I was ready to get married to him!
Nathan who?
Fortunately, (or perhaps not-so-fortunately) they made a good, strong Long Island Iced Tea.
And that’s basically the last thing I remember.
Soon thereafter, Nathan’s mom had had ENOUGH, so she wanted to find her somewhere where we could DANCE, and not to all that country SHIT! So, she drove us to another club…in a hotel? I have no memories after this point, which is completely embarrassing considering I was out with my boyfriend’s mother and future mother-in-law. This new place played covers of Nickelback and rap music, and I got the inclination to dance.
I shouldn’t ever dance.
On the way home, I was whining about going to Waffle House, begging for a grilled cheese sandwich on the promises that I would pay. We arrived, and I ordered the largest thing on the menu and didn’t eat any of it. Nathan made a new friend there, a cockroach who crawled onto our table to say hello. So he told the waitress about it, who laughed it off and said, “yeah, we’ve been having a problem with that!” Then she swiped my check card. He was sick all the way home thinking about his little friend. And all the way home, I was saying, “when are we going to Waffle House so I can get a grilled cheese sandwich?”
I’m not much of a drinker, and this is exactly why. At least I wasn’t begging for a barbecue sandwich from the funeral home.
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I’ve been drunk with my future mother-in-law and a bull riding thingy and at a funeral. Both were equally weird. And the latter very inapropriate.
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