How Not To Impress Me

Let's remember last night was game night. So around 10:00pm, I moved my way to Gator's to take in the Blue and Orange of Boise State. Smurf Turf! Smurf Turf! Smurf Turf! Anyways...pony up to the bar. All by myself, but I'm feeling okay with it. Get a Killian's and a menu. 20 minutes till Kick Off. Am enjoying myself, then...

"Heeeeey, Corvallis........" (it sounded like Stillwell Angel, A League Of Their Own)

I look over. This guy is smiling at me. So I give him my best princess wave.

I am in my grey, angry Beaver, Oregon State sweatshirt, because a girl has got to represent her distaste in the Green and Yellow...oh, and Diamond Plating, Black, Grey, Wings...and any another weird shit Phil Knight feels he needs to put on the jersey. Amen.

This guy continues this allllll night. And it's not like he was routing for the Ducks. He was...well...just...drunk. I mean, listen buddy, just because I'm here on my own, enjoying the game, without another Beaver fan in tow, doesn't mean I'm not used to standing my own. I know plenty of Bandwagon Duck Fans (you know, the kind that love the school, but never actually attended it as an educational establishment minus to score some good weed).

But I don't let it get to me. I'm enjoying an Irish Red. I had 2 sections of the BBQ Chicken Quesadilla. It's a low-scoring game, which I was prepared for a shoot out.

Oh, but let's fast forward to the beginning of the second half. Mr. "Hey Corvallis" comes over to chat with me. Well, chat would be a great verb. However, I think it was more like slurring. No, wait, it was slurring. Heavy slurring. I don't even think he could comprehend a Field Sobriety Test at that moment, but that's beside the point.

In 5 minutes he was oozing alcohol out his pores, I had to concentrate so intently on this guy because his lack of motor skills got in the way of his ability to speak coherently.

But during that 5 minutes of conversation he said he's "from Forest Grove"..."he went to Pacific"..."But I'm really a Huskey fan"...."I played football at Boise State."

So which is it?

Thankfully I could turn my attention back 'round to the game as soon as they kicked off, so he somehow got the hint that Hey, not even remotely interested in a walking breathalizer case.

And the "Heyyyyy Corvallis" continued all night. Swell.

Mid-3rd quarter, nature called so I made my way to the loo. Oh, but who should out-of-nowhere grab my hand like I'm some video vixen available for purchase? "Hey, stay and talk with me."

"I have to pee." Not, I have to use the restroom. Or, some other well-formed method of telling him that there are other priorities than soothing his drunk desire to chat up someone from the exceptional area of the PacNW. "Okay, well stop back by." Ya, will do, can't wait, let's schedule mani/pedis, and go out for tennis at the Club, you'll meet my parents, it'll be grand, want to be my baby daddy?...oh wait, where's a bucket?...I'm going to be sick. Back off, buddy.

No, I don't go back to chat with him. Yes, I tune out his future "Heyyyyy Corvallis." Yes, the bartender only charged me for 2 Killian's, not 3. :) Yes, I left her a healthy tip (like 25% for that slight calculation...yay!). No, I wasn't mugged on the walk home. Yes, I have still have quesadilla leftover for lunch. Yes, I was absolutely entertained when Blount laid a lick on a BSU player. Not because I agreed. But because law enforcement had to restrain him. Killer. It's like an episode of Cops: Green and Yellow Edition.