i wanted to start this post with a title, but i'm not sure what it would have been... the hippie dialogues? my evening ((or so)) with a hippie?

friday evening was one like any other. drinks with co-workers and whathaveyou, until i received a telephone call from an unfortunate hippie that i had sworn off upon the discovery of his age: 36, employment: un, and living situation: with dad. no, no, and no.

however, after several weeks of dodging voicemails and social scenes, he calls with materials of bribery. i am not above taking bribes.

so we hang out with his hippie friends in their hippie house and engage in activities such as drinking, shadow dancing, and snowball fights.

post-party we make it back to my apartment, but, before any late-night activities ensue, he proceeds to vomit... everywhere. i woke up to him puking all over my bathroom. i woke up to him puking all over my kitchen sink. i woke up to him puking in my roommate's bathroom ((which is across the apartment, though i have a bathroom attached to the bedroom we are both sleeping in)).

bitch, you're 36! pull yourself together!

i'm not used to my tricks still being over the following morning, so i tried a scheme introduced to me by a co-worker... t-wex. ((sound it out; how adorable is that?))

mengtar said:

((ready to go, in work uniform, apron, and all))
alright, well i have to work at 11 ((lie)), so i should probably bring you back to your car...

worthlesshippiex said:

i don't think i can handle a car-ride right now.

mengtar said:

well... you're going to have to.

worthlesshippiex said:

bleeaauuuurrghhhhh..... ((runs to the bathroom, catching puke in his hands and shirt along the way))

((le sigh))


after this, i am forced to fake-call in sick to work. i've never called in sick to work, let alone FAKE-called in sick to work.

fucking hippies.

an hour or so goes by and my friends are slowly figuring out how desperate i am to get out of this painfully awkward situation of baby sitting a grown man. someone my dad's age... had my dad had a child at age twelve... okay, well at least someone of the age that my dad might hang out with. whatever. k-bitchx calls and invites me to lunch at noon.

immediately before our lunch date, i have the EXACT same conversation with the hippie, and he again proceeds running to the bathroom catching vomit in his hands, beard, and chest hair.

i can't even handle this.

((exit mengtar.))

((enter mengtar at mr. chopstix, a local hippie chinese food restaurant))

k-bitchx said:

well, of course he's unemployed! he's a hippie! what did you expect?

mengtar said:

what?!?? we're at chopstix! look at all of these employed hippies! paying their income taxes like champs! this is the hippie employment epicenter!


post-lunch i am forced to avoid my apartment at ALL costs. this includes bribing the infamous homeboy with a mocha shake with peanut butter into entering ground zero/hippie cove to gather my necessities.

homeboy said:

okay, so what all do you need me to grab?

mengtar said:

uhh... let me make you a list...
((pulls out ONE crumpled post-it note from her coat pocket, seemingly saved for JUST the occasion...))
hair-straigtener, hair product, face wash, pumas.... phone charger...

homeboy said:

where is the phone charger?

mengtar said:

uhh... it's plugged into the wall... on the other side of the bed... okay, that one is optional.

((LOVE))

here's a lull in the story. boreboreboreboreboreborebore...

((enter mengtar in dallas, 11pmish, with t-wex and company))

worthlesshippiex said:

so, i'm still at your apartment and i'm starting to worry...

drunklor mengtar said:

go home!

t-wex said:

this is mengtar's landlord, and, unless you plan on paying january's rent, you should exit the premises, or the local authorities will be contacted. that's right! the denton po-po, bitch!

worthlesshippiex said:

i already walked home after the fucked up texts, didn't want to leave the door unlocked. guess i didn't expect you to leave me there all day. thanks a lot.



le sigh... what the fuck did you want me to do? wait around for you to stop puking all over my apartment? meanwhile, i was buying stock in febreze and 409 spray-foam carpet cleaner. get.the.fuck.out!

lesson of the weekend: never invite hippies over, unless you plan on housing them ((rudely or not)) for at least 24 hours.

((fucking hippies))