i went out friday night.
and on the way to the very last bar i had to pee. not pee like “oh, i shall use a restroom when it becomes convenient and until then, i’m fine holding it.”
no no.
this was more of a “HOLY CRAPÂ I MIGHT PEE RIGHT NOW. THIS VERY SECOND. IN MY FRIEND APRIL’S CAR. AND I DON’T EVEN CARE. GET ME TO A BATHROOM NOW!” kinda thing.
and when we got to said bar there was, of course, a line. which almost gave me bladder cancer on the spot.
but alas, i was able to hold it until i got up to the bouncer. and i was all, “here sir. you may have my ID now. look. i am clearly over 21. and the id is real, so i would like to enter and use the ladie’s room if possible.”
but since i look like im 12 and it was a wisconsin ID, he was all, “hmm. i need a second form.”
but last time i went out with april she left my debit card on the sidewalk and only by the grace of the Lord Jesus himself did i get it back the next day, so i no longer bring that when i go with her, so all i had was my blog business cards to show him, which of course i bring everywhere.
and he was like “oh. umm. ok.” but then after looking at them for like three seconds he was like “what the heck are these?! this is not a second form of ID.”
and i was like. UGG! I HAVE TO PEE!!!
and then he was like, “well what’s your zip code?”
but i haven’t lived in wisconsin since 2008, so i couldn’t remember, which i kindly explained to the stupid nice man.
and then he scolded me for not getting my illinois licence yet. and then i was all, it’s because they require a birth certificate, and i can’t find mine. but i know i have it, so im just waiting for it to magically show up under my pillow from the cook county clerk fairy and then i will get my new license.
and i was like, DUDE IT’S ME! LOOK AT THE FREAKING PICTURE. THEN LOOK AT MY FACE. SEE THE PICTURE? SEE MY FACE? IT’S ME! I SWEAR TO GOD IT IS MY ID. I’M CRYSTAL SUE LINDELL. 8/23/83. IT’S ME!!!!!!”
and with a sigh so heavy it could have knocked down the Sears Willis Tower he said “fine. you can go in. but this is your last time.”
and i ran to the bathroom like an olymic sprinter on steroids with expensive running shoes and everything.
and while peeing there on a bar toilet, reading random phone numbers, i thought, wait what? last time? what the heck is that supposed to mean?
umm don’t worry mr. bouncer. i was just using you for your bathroom. i won’t need to come back here again. ever. i shall take my clearly-older-than-21 business elsewhere. stupid jerk.
