Gather round children, it's time for a story; or, as I like to call it: story time. Unlike most of Uncle Phildo's stories though, this one is actually true. This is the story of how Uncle Phildo being a total asshole led to two people finding each other and eventually getting married. Because that's what Uncle Phildo does. He's an asshole. And then people get married. And he stays unhappy. Don't grow up, kids.
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| "And then Somali pirates took over the ark and held all the animals hostage until a UN peacekeeping force brutally murdered the pirates using bullets and ballistic knives." |
Harken back, if you will, to February 4th, 2007. There was a crisp breeze meandering through the city streets and a football game was scheduled. Not just any football game though. That's right Timmy! The
Super Bowl!
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| Pictures really do say more than words... |
Uncle Phildo was at his favorite grown-up drink spot with one of his friends. They got there well before the game started to make sure they could grab a good spot and then they started drinking "no no juice" in vast quantities. So...oh look, your parents are here. Thank God this storytelling thing was annoying as hell.
So anyway my friend and I are at the bar, probably looking
mildly homeless, downing pitcher after pitcher after pitcher after pitcher after pitcher of beer. Earlier in the evening, apparently right before we had arrived, some attractive representatives of the Miller Lite brand were there passing out Miller Lite branded memorabilia like hats, frisbees and those little things that you put under your eyes to reduce glare if you happen to be athletic and want to have that "Native American" look going for you. Sadly we missed most of the swag being doled out. In a state of drunken despair we asked the bartender if he was sure that the Miller Lite girls were gone and he said he was pretty sure they were. Not to be deterred, we ordered another pitcher of beer.
Shortly thereafter, two girls decked out head-to-toe in Miller Lite gear came over and asked if they could join us for a beer. Baffled, my friend and I agreed. Were these the mysterious Miller Lite promo girls? After several pitchers of beer had been consumed, we basically thought we were being hit on by these women:
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| Of course we missed this. |
Later Facebook stalking combined with a bit of sobriety under our belts showed us it was maybe closer to this:
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| Copyright for this photo belongs to my ex-wife. |
However, since we were feeling like we were on top of the world and being hit on some pretty gorgeous babes, we went with the flow. We didn't outright ask them if they worked for Miller; we felt like we didn't have to because hey, they gave us a frisbee! DUH they work for Miller AND are in love with us! After sharing a beer with us they said they had to go back to their group of friends but invited us to come and join them. Always one to play it cool, I probably said something like "Maybe after I go cut down a tree and build a fucking house and kill a bear." My friend and I looked at each other in disbelief. It was like something out of a movie...first and foremost, attractive women don't come to this bar. Second, women in general don't come to this bar. It's a dive bar at it's very finest. On its best day you really only see the hardened alcoholics of the area, so for us to be in this situation was the equivalent of walking onto your back porch and finding a magical hot tub waiting for you.
We needed a strategy. Because we were drunk. Because clearly women love being lied to I proposed that we tell them we're actually employees of Budweiser (see what I did there?) and operate off the craaaaazy coincidence that they're Miller Lite girls and we're....Budweiser........Boys...........
My friend immediately vetoes this idea. It is the dumbest thing he's ever heard, he hates me, he takes my man card and rips it in half. He unleashes a volley of insults that leave me in the emotional equivalent of the fetal position. He says "Nah man, let's just be who we are, that's what's important." I steeled myself and we ambled over to their table, where they were seated with a small group of friends. They greeted us in that special "We're drunk and we saw you a minute ago!" kind of way and we returned a similar greeting. Before I can even open my mouth to say something awkward my friend plops down at the table and says:
"So you won't believe this...I actually work for Budweiser!"
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| Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! |
Really? Are you fucking kidding me? You spent the better part of a glass of beer lambasting me for suggesting that we tell them that we are Budweiser employees and then you waltz over to their table and not only bogart my idea, but don't even include me in it? He has the whole table captivated as he makes up stories of how he travels with Budweiser doing promotional events and what not. Everything I try to say is completely passed over by the group. Defeated, I started ordering shots like a champ and entered what I like to call "Super Surly Pissed Off Mega Drunk Mode." The one "Miller Lite" girl that I had affections for was hanging on my friend's every word and I decided that the best course of action would be for me to be a total dick. Because everyone loves an asshole.
While I'm a bit hazy on the specifics, something I said to one of the young ladies caused the table to go completely silent, and even garnered the attention of a nearby table of young men, one of whom decided to come over to the table and say something like "Hey asshole, why don't you take a hike?" As if I had been waiting for an excuse to go brood elsewhere in the bar, I took this as my cue and went to go drink alone while my friend and Mr. Stands-Up-For-Someone-When-Really-He-Should-Be-Standing-Up-For-Me-Because-My-Friend-Torpedoed-Me-And-Made-Me-Look-Like-An-Asshat (or Mr. SUFSWRHSBSUFMBMFTMAMMLLAA for short) stay and have a wonderful time in the company of the young ladies.
Years pass by, my friend and I often look back on this story and laugh at what a complete and total dick he was. Instead of saying rude things to people I just generally don't say anything to people anymore, which helps. Well lo and behold, I'm telling the story to a friend I work with (back when I had a job) and midway through, her eyes wide with disbelief, she asks "That was you?"
You see, it turns out the Miller Lite girl that had gotten offended at what a brutish asshole I was, she's a good friend of my work friend. And Remember Mr. SUFSWRHSBSUFMBMFTMAMMLLAA? Apparently Miller Lite girl was so moved by his chivalrous act of telling me that I was a d-bag that she gave him her phone number. And then they went on a date. And another date. And then they were dating. And probably having sex, too. And then they were engaged. And NOW THEY'RE MARRIED.
This started out as a kid's story, so I suppose I should wrap this up with a little moral or something to take away from this...I guess the point is, if I'm an asshole to you, you'll probably find the love of your life because of it. And I'll just go on drinking
alone.
