Plastic Women Beware

kids went to the inlaw's saturday night and stayed over. mister and i were feeling lazy, so we decided to hit the menifee bar scene. this consists of two bars. five miles apart. bobs pit stop was so empty that there was a stray dog walking around in there, and the three and half patrons, ( i say a half because this man was so old he definitely had one foot in the grave)were looking at it like it was entertainment. like ..reeeaaally entertaining....like the donkey show in tijuana ( which i have seen, and will blog about at a later time...gonna lose a lot of readers when i post that gem). i checked behind the bar nervously, half expecting the bartender to be laying there in a pool of blood, his forehead split by an axe. no such luck. he had a little stool he was sitting on, and was WHITTLING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! straight out of deliverance. here he is -
okay . not him. and he had a smaller piece of wood. but close enough.
**** oh wow. say "whittling " ten times. repeat. isnt that word funny?
back to the bar. clearly there was nothing going on ,unless the dog decided to have puppies on the floor or something, but upon further inspection, it appeared to be starving, so we left.
after a treacherous drive through construction that has been going on since the gulf war, we arrive at pepe's cantina. this is a clear example of why i hate society. here is my yelp review of this establishment- ( also my other reviews on there...) its the fourth one down-CLICK THIS AND READ, MAN
so we stroll into pepes. this is canyon lake, and either everyone is dressed like the traditional bro-n-ho, or they wear sweat pants and ugg boots. so needless to say, i dont fit in. which is usually the case. i am six two in my stilletos. people stare. after leaving again, immediately to smoke a cigarette, i walk back in the door, and see mr. erick getting molested at the bar by two blonde blowup dolls. i leave him to fend for himself. after five minutes though,i realize he has all the money. so i saunter over. blondie #1 gives me an evil glance and goes back to stroking ericks ponytail. blondie #2 actually moves in front of me, between myself and my matrimonial partner of 13 years. i quickly reach around her, and snatch ericks wallet out of his pocket. he doesnt even look at me. he has already received a beer (free!) from another blonde bartender who is obviously related to the first two. ( arent they all related once they use the same surgeon??)
#1 shrieks "omigod!! she was in your pocket!!"
erick- i know
dumb bitch 2= dont you, like care??
erick- no
dumber bitch 1- what?? what the fuck???
erick- thats my wife.

he then just walks away. erick is famous for this. he just lets things happen to him, around him, for him, then when he gets a better idea, he just leaves. its really funny.
he joins me at the bar. the look on his face says he is thinking better of it. "you are going to drink all that?", he says eying my plastic cup (3 shots) of kessler, the rolling rock, and the greyhound i have already drank down to the ice."yes. i have to be here" i snap. so after that round, and another, i settle in with just a beer. then, of course, i need to smoke. erick decided to accompany me, even though he equates me smoking with world destruction=



actually, i think he enjoys people thinking he rented me for a night or something.so three drags in, and i hear a female voice yell 'erick!!!" oh great. at first i thought it was another barbarella, but its not. it is a girl from the payroll department at his office. they talk about work. i concentrate on finishing my cigarette , and then walk back inside to study the band.

okay. not only is the guitar player 6foot6 and weighs maybe 120 punds, he looks exactly like the late great cliff burton!!!!! i am stoked. i watch fascinated as, he rips out a perfect rendition of whitesnakes "here i go again" . i take stock of the rest of the band- singer-marie osmond, add thirty years and a crack habit. drummer-phil collins, but with a full blond afro. sardonic bass player sitting in front of enough keyboards to play in the mormon tabernacle choir- russell hitchcock from air supply. this causes me to drink two more shots of kessler.

erick and the payroll entourage come over and sit down. he introduces me as "linda- drunken wonder" they shake my hand and frown. i try not to say anything, and because that is so difficult being this buzzed, i do the only thing feasible-

go request bon jovi.

the band gets mildly HYPER when faced with living on a prayer. i sing the lyrics LOUD, and pull out my lighter. erick and his office ladies crack up. then cliff burton reincarnated starts playing "eruption", complete with the hand over hand tapping technique. some asshole in a huge t-shirt and jeans the size of a billy graham revival tent decides to start DANCING. the jerk. i yell " blasphemer!!! "in my best pinhead voice. he doesnt get it.
so i scream= "if eddie van halen wanted you to crip walk to this guitar solo he would have composed it with a drum machine!!!!!" he gets that. and tries to melt into the light up floor. i hear a few sporadic cheers, and then turn to see erick gazing at me proudly. "you are such a bitch." , he mouths. "love you too," i mouth back. then, i run and slide on my knees up to the stage and make some you rule gestures to the band. pepes cantina erupts in applause. i get up, dust off the knees of my jeans, and walk out the door. erick follows, high fiving every guy at the bar.

no, i didnt drive home.