Baby Toys, Potties and Of Course Beer

I recently paid my brother-in-law, Geof a visit. And by visit, I mean hanging out in a random bar. Although the initial intention of the visit was to have my annual decent conversation with my estranged sister and chill with my nephews, getting soused and cussing seemed like a more appealing option. Life is too short for boredom. For that matter I decided to invite my bro, Derrick to tag along like some sort of third or possibly forth wheel. He is a special species of boring that one. It took a great deal of persuasion and cajoling to convince him that there were numerous fun things to do besides jacking off every Saturday night.

He asked me to explain further.

I said I would gladly do that if he followed me to the taxi. After eyeing me suspiciously and spending more than an hour deciding on which one of his two gay T-Shirts to wear, we were finally on our way.

Unfortunately, we were supposed to meet Geof and my other bro, Ivo at a bar where I was generally disliked. Ok, not disliked. My grandeur leaves everyone no choice but to like me remember? Thing is, the people at this bar were rather reluctant to accept my views on the uselessness of marriage. I fervently tried, in the simplest grammar to sway them to believe that there was nothing as pathetic and inept as marriage. Who would want to sign up for some fucked up form of voluntary imprisonment? Why not have a few bastards here and there, sleep with friends and live comfortably? I asked.

They said to shut up.

Wherein I drunkenly shouted something to the (kind of hot) waitress and sounded like;

“Hey Carthy, wouldn’t you have pity sex with me now that we’re friends?”

She politely declined my once-in-drunken-lifetime offer. I said;

“Well me neither! I’m just trying to get to your friend jealous. Could you tell her that I can’t decide whether she looks cute or hot but that she’s definitely GORGEOUS?”

The conversation went a little bit downhill and I don’t want to delve into specifics but all you should know is that I didn’t put Cathy and/or her friend to bed that night. One of my major failures to date.

Before I could make up mind, my nephew ran willy-nilly, hoochie-on-wheels straight at me and jumped in my open arms like a puppy and shouted ‘UNCLE!’ before inadvertently knocking me down.

…

Ok, that’s a bit exaggerated. What happened was this;

I shouted ‘BABY! HIGH FIVE!’. He looked at me and it was like his eyes were counting off options;

1.       I am not a baby any more

2.       You forgot to add ‘no homo’

3.       You are probably a psycho

4.       We are in a bar, so cut that high five shit

I was getting embarrassed so I tried to carry him. Man, it was like the baby just smelled fart and that fart was my existence because (I think) according to him, I had no idea how much fun it was to hang in bar with dad since 10 in the AM. Another attempt to cajole him inevitably made him shout. LOUD! It was like he was raising an alarm for kidnapper alert or some shit. I threw in the towel.

Spoilt brat

Enough with all these rants and unwanted attention, I hadn’t come to a bar to change diapers, I was here to drink beer. A lot of it. Since the rest of the team had been at it for the most of eight hours, me and Derrick had a lot of catching up to do. I don’t mean it as a joke but Derrick drinks ‘soda’. When he added, ‘Mirinda Fruity’, beer just rushed through my nose in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. It didn’t help matters that I was trying to do it as discreetly as possible since he is one emotional scum bag.

After two hours of throwing back the bitter, my nephew was exhausted and therefore irritable. Partly because he was hungry but mostly because his dad wouldn’t let him drink beer like all the men in the house. Ivo and Derrick drove him back home leaving me and Geof to do what we do best. Then something evil in the name of a text message from Eva, his wife who doubles as my sister happened; it read—

“—since that is your family, don’t come home. Stay there.”

Personally, I felt it was a blessing in disguise since there was a possibility of hitting club and drinking all night. I directed this new energy to cheering the Williams’ sisters in Olympic Tennis Doubles. I hadn’t even finished a beer in this euphoria when suddenly I looked up and who do I see?

Eva. Standing at the bar entrance like some sort of angry Tae-Kwando instructor. I sadly knew it was time to go. But with the kind of drama that my nephew taps from these two, I also knew that there had to be a scene out of the ordinary in say, five minutes.

1…2…3…4…

Voila! 

Eva snapped Geof’s disposable cup full of beer like SWAT and guess who got the compliments? Derrick, the soberest motherfucker alive, was soaked from head to toe in great tasting, easy drinking beer! Awesome! He boarded a taxi, smelling of fermented wheat and barley and sat next to a fat drunk woman.

Lucky dude

Geof, Eva, Ivo and I drove silently back home. When we reached, the couple were at each other’s throats again and we had to stay out on the veranda couch. Ivo just raised an eye brow at me with this look of, ‘you know what would be really cool?’

A likkle spliff to clear the air…