This ain't taytyme…

It's Larry J. Slimfast time, and I know how to use a spell check… among other things. Why is it Larry J. time? Because the stories have been coming in too slow on taytyme (he's been busy looking for the "Church Bell" setting on Rock Commando's keyboard) and I figured out his password (it's 'anal-stage' spelled backwards). That's right. Taytyme has been hacked.

So here you go…

Story number one: I hyjacked taytyme.

Story number deuce: The other night I had to go to Layl'a Rul, Jay Pennington's new cocaine bar on 20th avenue. I went for a birthday party. Normally I wouldn't go to a place like that for such nonsense but it was my girlfriend's birthday and I like to have sex so I went. If you've never been to Layl'a Rul, it's kinda like a Hotpipes show - boring, noisy and there is always some weasely, slightly balding weirdo screeching over the top of everything at unnecessarily high volumes. But like I said, I went anyway because those things are really of no concern to me when it comes to keeping my favorite lady satisfied.

I wasn't in there long before I knew I that had better leave or I was going to get pissed off. I was right as usual but not before I scored a really awesome weed hook-up from somebody's ex-girlfriend's old roommate's brother. Things were actually going fairly well until the party moved upstairs. Upstairs was supposed to be a "dance party" but it was really just a bunch of snotty Vandy kids and rich scene-ster wanna-bees that think they are much more sophisticated than they really are. There are also some really low couches, some tall, wooden cubes that serve as awkward tables, a small dance floor and a lighted "dance podium" that is only allowed for use by females. I find this last feature to be sexist. What about the flamboyant gay dudes that want to put on a show? You'd think a place like this would cater to queers but… whatever.

So I got a drink (ten lousy bucks for a vodka and tonic) and found a "table" near the back of a couch with my friend, Hard C (it was his birthday too) and some others. Now, there are no places to sit at these tables because there are no fucking chairs in Layl'a Rul. Apparently chairs don't fit the vibe or something and they only want people to lounge around on the couches while they snort their barbs. Ol' Hard C and I sat our asses down on the back of that couch and commenced pondering our existence. It wasn't long before some squirrelly little bouncer dude comes over and tells us that he "can't have people sitting on the back of the couches."

C hops up and says. "Aw man this is BULLSHIT! I'm leaving!"

I kept on sitting and said, "What is this place, my grandmothers 'good room?' Whatever dude." Mr. Bouncer scattered off after that. It was then that I really knew I had to leave or I would be angry. This sucked because A) angry dudes usually don't get sweet lovin' and 2) neither do guys that leave their date's birthday party early. I could only do one thing… get kicked out for a bullshit reason. I've never been kicked out of a bar before (that I can remember) but this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

As I sat anxiously, some burly guy with an Abercrombie & Fitch knock-off flannel shirt and a goatee came up and introduced himself as "Chad D." He wanted to bum a smoke and use an empty glass at my table as an ashtray while he waited on some people. I gave him a menthol and told him to have a seat on the back of the couch while he waited. We had the following conversation.

"Man I've never seen you here before. I come in here four or five nights a week. I fuckin' love this place."

"I don't. I think I'm about to try to get kicked out of here."

"What do you wanna do that for?"

"Oh, you know, the bouncer over there is full of shit."

"Well if you need a badass to back you up, I got you covered."

"Did you just call yourself a badass?"

"Yep." I like Chad D. He reminds me of my friend Truck. Ask the Snuggler about him.

"Well, they just don't want us sitting on the back of the couches is all. It's a load of crap."

"Really?" Chad D stands up quickly.

"Dude, sit down. It's nothing. He hasn't said anything to you yet."

"Naw man, I think I see my friends are over there."

Then the bouncer came up, said "Sir, I'm not gonna ask you to get off the back of the couch again…" and left me sitting there… again.

Pussy.

Chad D wandered off after I introduced him to my lady-friend. He also told her he was a badass and that I was crazy… nice guy that Chad D.

Sticking to my seat, I filled the birthday girl in on all of the recent developments. She only feigned support for my ridiculous cause but did not get angry. That's why she's awesome.

When the bouncer came back and asked me to get up again I politely reminded him that he said he wasn't going to do that anymore. To that he said he didn't want to have to ask me to leave. I told him he could if he wanted but he just turned around and left me sitting on the back of the couch. I sorta felt sorry for him but I kept on sitting just the same. At this point my better half decided she was kicking me out and I had to get up and leave… unsatisfied. We ended up arguing over the benefits of lambskin condoms on the way home and I fell asleep (again unsatisfied) under a pile of Arby's cheese-stick wrappers on the floor of her apartment.