One thing that I love about people who have been drinking is their accidental honesty, which is when they tell you things about you they would never say to your face under the influence of sobriety.
Such as a couple of nights ago when the bartender rang me about his latest evening out. He had apparently been in a conversation with a girl who turned out later to be a hooker (well, I mean, she was a hooker the whole time I guess, he just didn't know she was a hooker when he started talking to her. Not that he doesn't talk to hookers all the time: he frequently comes home from Vegas with a whole variety pack of "So this hooker comes up to me and says..." stories. But I am rambling now and none of this is really the point. Carrying on:) He's having a conversation with this girl and her rarefied employment is brought up, whereupon he mentions that in Vegas he has conversed with many a hooker because they seem to enjoy talking with him. And her response is that no, they don't really want to talk to him, they are working. And he argues that in fact they specifically pointed out in the conversations that they were indeed not working and just looking for someone to talk to. And again she tells him that this is incorrect since all working girls are always working.
At which point, the bartender abruptly gets up and walks away from her, answering her cry of "Hey, where are you going?" with "You just said working girls are always working, and since you are one, and I would never pay you for sex because I don't find you at all attractive, I'm going to go talk to someone who actually wants to have a conversation with me."
When he got home he relayed this story to me in his deadly serious but always hilarious "I'm so insulted" voice.
"She wasn't even attractive, like at all. She was one of your ugly redheads* and she was fat. Well, not like Orca or anything, just, you know, big. And she was talking about how good she is a blow jobs, and you know how I am, I REALLY like blow jobs. But not from her. And definitely not if I have to PAY her."
"Mmm hmm. So 'not Orca'? I really don't know what that means exactly."
"It means she's fat but not super-fat, you know?"
"No. Like chunky? I don't know what you mean. Can I get a height to weight ratio?"
"She's 5'8". And probably, I would say, like 150 to 165."
At this point I perk up because, at risk of losing my audience who may be picturing me as a rail-thin demi-goddess, in real life I am 5'7" and 145 pounds. Which is not materially smaller than the redheaded prostitute he has just described. And while I find flaws all over my body and wish I could magically drop 10 pounds (and by magically I mean without exercising or changing any of my eating habits), I would hardly describe myself as fat. Also, being that I'm a girl, which we've previously established makes me crazy by nature, I in my infinite insanity decide to use this opening (and his ever so slight intoxication) to get him to admit that he thinks I'm fat. Just so I can wallow in it. Because it's what we do. And so I say, "So she's my size."
"Um, no, she's not really your size. Like for instance, her legs are fatter than yours. And her waist? It has rolls all the time, when she's sitting and standing. Not just when she's sitting. And her ass is the kind of ass that has no real, you know, form to it. Not like it's big but still has a shape. It has no shape. So I wouldn't say she's your size. She's a little bigger than you."
Right. Her legs are fatter than mine? Fatter than mine? And she has rolls all the time, not just when she's sitting. Presumably, as opposed to me, who only has rolls when I'm sitting? What's great is that the trap worked so perfectly I couldn't even get mad. Really, that was way too easy. Anyway, since I was so pleased with the success of my ruse, I decided not to do the typical girl thing and get all indignant on him, but to save the "are you calling me fat?" card to play during a later hand.
Man, I love alcohol.
*He was referencing the Amberance Redhead Theory: that there is no such thing as an average redhead. This is based on 27 years of observation, from which I have concluded that all redheads fall into one of two categories, drop dead gorgeous, or butt fucking ugly. If you are redhead and someone has said you are "ok" looking, it's a lie. They are either trying to protect your feelings, or trying to play it off that they don't want to tear your clothes off and make sweet sweet love to you for 6 days.