Ankles and Basketball

Spliff likes basketball. And I really don’t like any sports. Not unless I am watching them in person. I really feel that you can’t get the true feel of the sport unless you are watching it from the court itself. Tonight, because there wasn’t anything else on, Spliff wanted to watch the NBA playoffs. I was not interested. So, knowing that TRN likes basketball, (because last week, we had to interrupt a game so that he could come upstairs and kill a bug), Spliff decided to go down and watch the playoffs with him. I started writing and drinking wine and by the time she came back up for the third time, I thought Mr. James was hot enough to watch. (I actually always think he is super hot, but I thought that I would join TRN and tell him how fat his ankles are.) And, as it turns out, TRN does NOT remember trying to take his pants off in my living room but does remember coming up to offer me champagne. So…ummm…I don’t really know what that means other than, he was really effing drunk. He doesn’t remember when I tucked him into his bed. He doesn’t remember that his knee was bleeding and he wouldn’t let me put a bandaid on it so as not to destroy his down comforter…but he does remember Sunday when I came over to ask him to come out with us to restart the beer challenge. He was…well…hungover and uninterested, but when Spliff informed him that he had interrogated me about his ankles, he just laughed. By the time I came down, he was ready to know what else he had done. And I was also ready to know what else he had done. I have never seen someone that drunk before. Not even me, which is a stretch. Why, just the other day, I cussed out the owner of a restaurant because he tried to make me do a shot of Rumplemintz…(and I don’t know how to spell it because it is disgusting and I only learn to spell things that I like to drink.)

Anyway, TRN doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t remember that this is the second time that I have had to put him to bed and he doesn’t remember trying to trap me in his room. And my theory about it is, when he is drunk, I am hot and he wants to steal me away and keep me in his room. I wish Taye Diggs felt the same way. Dammit. Now, if you will excuse me, “Brown Sugar” is on VH1.

No comments: