11 March, 2014

March Madness, The Weasil Kind

11 March 2014
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R. Linda:

The good news is that I don't need a second surgery, so I was able to fly. I let my office know, and the next thing I was asked was if I wanted a trip to Nevada.

I got three days in Vegas, baby! For free! I took the wife, left the kids with the witch-in-law and headed out for what I hoped would be three days of recharging. There was a journalists' conference at the Paris Las Vegas Hotel AND Casino, and I thought this would be needed about now. So off I went, wearing my stretch socks to keep from having blood clots and a pulmonary embolism on the flight. I hope you have never needed to wear these particular socks or, in my case, stockings. They reach to the thigh and are tighter than a small elastic band, and trying to get them on takes some gymnastics and another body to help you pull them up. Oi!

I made one dreadful mistake, though. I got a call from Weasil and happened to mention where I was going and staying. Yup, you probably guessed it. The young whippersnapper was waiting for me in my hotel lobby. I ask you, is nothing sacred in my world?

I checked in, and the convention was already started. Because I had to sign in, I dragged Tonya with me, hoping to escape the Weasil, but he was already IN the convention room strolling around with an apple liquor and Crown Royal drink that was making his eyes bug out of his head every time he sipped it. He even had a tag that said, Hello, My Name Is Matt.

I looked at the tag and asked him who Matt was.

"I dunno, I just said me name was Matt, and da girlie said, Matt Connor? An I said yeppers dats me!"

"And Bob's your uncle. Name tag attached, and here you are. I do wonder where the real Matt Connor is." I said recklessly, looking around. I didn't care who heard me this sort of thing has got to stop. But it seemed Weasil had the luck as no one seemed to care.

"Hey Ron," Weasil called out to a man with salt and pepper hair, "Ya should taste dissy here," he shoved his drink in "Ron's" hand.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Iz some kinda apple drink, but it iz mostly Crown Royal."

Ron took a sip and his eyes lit up and got big.

"You aren't slipping me a ruffy, are you?" He asked Weas.

"Nah." They both laughed, and Weasil strolled off.

"Ron?" Tonya questioned me, as I shrugged off an answer.

Twenty minutes later, the wife was not enjoying the free bar that was open to the entire conference and the servers who'd come by and ask her if she was ready for a double because she looked like she was. I tell ya!

We went outside for some air and to see the place. As we walked out we were instantly accosted by strangers handing out strip club fliers. At first, we didn't know what they were handing out, but considering we were in Sin City, it figured. We weren't outside more than three minutes before we were joined by Matt, I mean Weasil. There he was with a large plastic replica of the Eiffel Tower filled to the brim with liquor.

"What the heck is that?" I asked him.

"I dint like da apple and Crown Royals sos I decided to drink wot da ladies were drinkin' and sos I gots me one of dese. I had me choice of being lady-like and havin' icey put inta da drinkie, but I tole em' straight up."

And he took a sip, and oh my, did his face do all sorts of strange twitches, and if I thought his eyes were bugging out of his head before, they were now.

Before we could react, three guys came up and photo-bombed the wife. Yes, they did. She looked very lovely and was sporting a new do when they came up on both sides of her; one crouching in front took a selfie and went off. This happened to her three times, so you know she was looking good, and her photo is probably plastered all over the Internet.

"Why do you look so good?" I asked her, "Why the new clothes and new hair-do?"

"For you, Gabe," she said, somewhat offended. "You're my man. Why wouldn't I want to look nice for you, hum?"

As we strolled and Weasil lurched down the boulevard sipping from his massive drink, we came upon a person dressed in a gold lame' suit with what looked like orange alligator shoes, an orange handkerchief and a wide-brimmed orange hat. Of course, Tonya and I knew instantly the man was a pimp, but Weasil was more intrigued with the man's dress than anything else. Well, of course, he would be! He walked right up to him, Parisian drink and all and felt the suit's material.

"Dissy here iz nicie."

"You like this? My man, I have suits like this in all colours. And I have something you'll like more, I have girls! All kinds, colours, sizes and shapes. Tell me which you prefer, and my man, she's yours." The pimp said with an unctuous smile.

"Oh, if only Manda could see diss," Weasil said out loud and caught himself. He never mentions Amanda (the wife) unless he's had too much to drink, and well, he had. He was swaying like there was a breeze blowing. Tonya and I caught him under the arms and dragged him away from the pimp, but not before he yelled over his shoulders he wanted the name of the man's shoe "builder."

When we returned to the hotel, I was told a friend (whom I hadn't seen in seven years) had heard I was at the conference and wanted Tonya and me to join him for dinner. I called his room and told him I would love to come, but I had some unexpected company from Scotland with me. He quickly told me to bring him along.

"But . . . but . . . but. . ." I mumbled, but it was too late!

I told them we had to leave for the dining room in fifteen minutes. Tonya took off to get changed in the loo while Weasil told me he couldn't get off the bed. He had collapsed on our bed totally too looped to move. I was ever so happy to hear that he wasn't joining us, but suddenly, he slurred he was "comin'" even if he had to barf his guts up.

"No, no, you rest," I said, shoving him back down. I watched his eyelids flutter, and he was out like a light.

Tonya came out of the loo, affixing an earring, and looked at the sleeping wonder.

"He can't stay here," she said, "that's not good."

"We'll move him when we come back," I said, opening the door for her.

We had a wonderful time, completely forgetting about the sleeping Weasil on our bed. When we came to our room, we hadn't left a light on, so we forgot all about the body in the bed until Tonya sat on it and realised he was still there. She turned on the bedside lamp and tsked.

"OMG, I totally forgot about him," I said, "put an arm under his shoulders and help me get him to his room."

She did this, and we both struggled to slide him to the foot of the bed. Then, we each put a limp arm over our shoulders and carted him to the door. I opened it and dragged him into the hall, Tonya pushing Weasil's weight toward me to close the door. Once settled again, we started to pull him down the hall when I realised I had no clue what room he was staying in let alone if he was registered to our hotel.

"What do you mean you don't know what room he's in?" Tonya hissed.

We dragged him to our room, and thankfully, no one saw us until I realised the security cameras had picked us up. And I was right; we weren't three minutes back in our room when a banging and a voice called to us to open up, "Hotel Security. " And there they were, two big, meaty guys in suits.

We spent half an hour explaining Weasil, and let me tell you, it wasn't easy explaining Weasil. In the interim of all this, Weasil would awaken to confirm what we said to them, and finally satisfied we were truthful, they left us with a warning to be careful how much we drink so we don't poison ourselves. Like Tonya and I needed that.

"SO GENIUS," Tonya started on me.

"We'll just leave him on the bed," I said, cutting her off like I was thinking what to do. We found out from the security guys Weasil was not registered at the Paris. Where he was registered, we had no clue, and he didn't stay sober long enough to get an answer. So we were stuck with his drunken arse.

"Well, he's not sleeping it off on the bed," Tonya said, grabbing Weas's ankles. Get him by the shoulders, and let's move him to the floor."

And to placate her, that's what I did. I might as well have joined him because I was not getting the bed to share; no, the wife was in a snit. I could sleep in a chair, I was told, or join Weasil on the floor.

Once the lights were out, I pleaded with her in the dark to let me in bed; with me just being out of hospital, it wouldn't be good for me to sleep in a chair. She reluctantly murmured something sarcastic, and there I was, sharing the bed.

The next morning, I could hear the shower going and figured Weasil had arisen early and was cleaning up. I nestled closer to Tonya and inhaled the smell of her hair. I don't know what the hair product she uses is, but it smells really nice. Only this time, it smelled a lot like scotch. I slowly opened me eyes to see the person I was embracing to me had blond hair. It was WEASIL!

I jumped up out of bed, making disparaging ape-like noises. I was grossed out I was! I hopped around the room, flaying my hands as if I was trying to dislodge cooties. I tell ya! I must have been a sight because the wife came out of the loo with towel-wrapped turban-style around her head, the rest of her sporting a terry bathrobe. She watched me, and a malicious smile played on her lips.

"YOU! YOU!" I pointed at her. "YOU think this is funny!" I shouted as the Weasil began to rouse at the noise. "AND YOU!" I pointed at him, "How did you get in our bed?"

"I duntz member." He slurred and then went to roll over and found himself promptly on the floor.

That did it for Tonya. She covered her mouth, trying to keep the laughter and idea of lunacy inside, and went back to the loo, shutting the door, but I could hear the unconfined laughter.

"Get up and . . . get out!" I said through clenched teeth.

"But Gabby . . . " Weasil said, picking himself up. "Yer was holdin' on ta me like ya loved me, and now yer tellin' me to leave?" This last said with a lopsided grin that was mocking me, and I knew it.

I won't bore you with the conversation; it was pathetic on his part, and well, I was totally grossed and in need of a cleansing shower. The wife finally gave up the loo to which I rushed in and locked the door to shower off any traces of Weasil anything.

By the time I came out, Weasil had magically disappeared, and we were ready for what turned out to be a Weasil-free day. I wish I could say the last day was the same, but no, no, Weasil showed up, a bit coy in attitude, but he was off the bottle and tame.

Please remind me never to tell Weasil where I am off to or what I am doing. If I shoot me mouth off, please write "I told you so" as a subject title in all your emails for a year so I don't forget what happens when I mention things I shouldn't. Much appreciated.
                                                                                
View from room window: I wish I could have thrown Weasil out of

Gabe
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3 comments:

Maggie said...

My, my what a web we weave W. You were supposed to attend a function you and your wife were invited to that weekend and your excuse was a dog show you were judging. Lame W very lame. Vegas was were you were. LMAO I won't tell but I'm sure Amanda will find you out. Gabe, I wish I had known this before your trip or the young grasshopper/whippersnapper would have been attending a Jack and Jill baby shower for Amanda's sister.

mobit22 said...

ROFLMAO
Hmmmm In ALL these years of our friendship, I think I HAVE said I TOLD YOU SO at least a hundred times.LOL You should have told him you were going to Canada or Cancun!
and believe me I WILL be sending those emails for a year.LOL
I don't even know the guy and I sure has hell wouldn't tell him about any destinations or time frame. YOU'VE know him forever and he STILL gets there ahead of you..maybe next time......

Fionnula said...

isn't the alerts for a new story working? I didn't get one. ha ha on Weas you never know when he will show up on unlucky you lol but if amanda finds out i bet you won't be seeing him for a while ... at least you can hope that