Why Go to Bourbon Street When You Can Go to Clarendon

I'm gonna have to tell this story starting from the middle:

The 2nd half of this ridiculous night starts when The Toddler and I leave Toddlerette at her place to get some beers and bring her back a slice of pizza. There's a jumbo slice shack in Clarendon, called Goody's, that's reportedly great drunk food. I've never had it, but I'm pretty sure you have to be hammered to stand in that line full of tools, otherwise you'll decide you prefer chili from Hardtimes Cafe across the street.

So we walk over to Hardtimes Cafe to get a couple big beers. When we walk out we see that the line at Goody's has turned from an audition for Tool Academy into the casting call for a popped collar street fight.  Drunk frat boys, short drunk Army, tall drunk Marines, trashy drunk hot chicks. All mouthin' off to each other. Everyone thinking they're Dane Cook, not knowing that most people wanna punch Dane Cook in the crotch.

After calculating that getting a pizza will take 40 minutes, and that there's a good chance that the pizza will be dropped when the fight breaks out, the Toddler makes an executive decision and says, "I'm too old for this shit, I'm getting a DiGiorno from CVS."

That's when shit gets weird.

We're in line at the CVS and I comment that there's gonna be a fight on the streets, the likes of which I haven't seen since that week I spent in Hoboken. The dude in front of us goes, "No shit. I was at Clarendon Ballroom and some guy punched my buddy in the ear for no reason. A huge fight broke out and none of the bouncers tried to stop it."

How did I respond to that?
1. "Your first mistake was going to the Ballroom."
2. "The bouncers at the Ballroom are known for only bouncing people who won't be hard to throw out."
3. "The Ballroom sucks."

I say this to the guy and the Toddler agrees. I don't really wanna help the guy 'cause he's obviously a douche. I mean, he went to the Ballroom. And he has the word "METAL" embroidered on the back of his shirt. But I love to talk shit about that terrible, terrible, place.

Then two dudes emerge from an aisle and walk up to the line. Not really dudes, more like Miami Beach metrosexuals. One is wearing a yellow Ed Hardy t-shirt, holding a jumbo pack of condoms, the other is in a pink v neck t-shirt holding a CVS Easter basket.  They look at each other and say, "Holy shit." Then they look at the rest of us and say, "These are for our girlfriends." I'm not sure if they're lying or what. I'm just thinking, "If you guys just noticed at 2 AM that you look like you're dating each other, what do your girlfriends look like?" If these girls exist, they must be the kind of tramps who dress with their labia showing, 'cause only that style will make a straight guy forget that he's dressed like Terry the Rollerscating Prostitute.

When these guys preemptively defend their love of Jersey Shore whores, everyone busts out laughing. From the looks on their faces they had just realized, "Man, we look like a couple of a-holes."  That is, everyone laughs, except for METAL. At the time he was at the front of the line paying and missed the introduction. When he turns around and sees the guys, this conversation begins:

METAL: "You guys gay?"

PINK: "Naw dude."

METAL: "I'll pay you guys 1000 bucks to come over to my place and bang each other. I'll film it."

EVERYONE: "What the f*ck!?"

YELLOW: "Dude, what the hell are you talking about?"

METAL: "1000 bucks. Right now. My name is Mike, I make porn. I'm the only porn producer in Arlington. Here's my card. Call me."

He hands a card to each guy. At this point everyone else in the CVS is laughing to the point of tears.

KOOL-ADE: "You're really a porn maker."

METAL: "Yup."

KOOL-ADE: "No wonder your buddy got earholed. You guys are f*cking scumbags."

TODDLER: "Let's get the f*ck out of here."

KOOL-ADE: "Dude."

The DiGiorno was delicious. And Clarendon should be burned to the ground.