by Bradley Suicide


[Above: Bradley Suicide in Sugar Kitty]

When I go out, things tend to be completely insane, and not always in a good way. When I look back on my nights out, I am not always proud of my antics, but they do always provide for an interesting story – my life is never boring. In true Bradley fashion, last weekend did not disappoint…

Saturday:
Milloux calls me to tell me about an epic bar party that is going down. I am freaking stoked. So excited I could jump through my skin. This bar happens to be in Redondo Beach and it is their three-year anniversary. Not only are they having a party of epic proportions on Saturday night, they are having a white trash pool themed event the next day. I Google the bar, The Gasser Lounge. It looks like my kind of place. A complete party spot. I am now so excited that I am counting down the minutes until I get out of work. It’s been a long ass week and I need a release for sure.

I get off of work at 7.30 PM, and rush home to change, asking my roommates for their opinions on outfits. My final choice ends up being a Guns ‘N’ Roses top and tiny, tiny white shorts. I curl my hair, throw on some makeup, put on some ridiculously high heelsm and I am out the door, Redondo Beach bound. I’m seriously juiced by this point. Adrenaline pumping through me as I give my liver a pep talk about what it’s in for while I drive up the 405.

I get to the bar at about 10.15 PM and link up with my friends. As I walk in I eye-fuck the shit out of the hot bouncer outside. This is a great start to my night and I’m feeling pretty on point.

The place is jam packed. A live band is playing some old school Cash. We go to the bar to order our first drinks. I ask for my usual, a Greyhound and a shot of Fernet Branca. As the bartender (who looks just like Rob Zombie) gets my shot I realize that the Fernet is on tap. I promptly lose my shit at this revelation. This bar was made for me.

I take my shot and down my drink, we are laughing, drinking, partying, and having a grand ol’ time. I am starting to get my drunk on and all of a sudden remember bouncer sexy pants outside. I ask Milloux to come outside with me, light up a cigarette, and promptly work my hot girl magic.

Two minutes from the time we step outside that gorgeous piece of dude is all over me like white on rice. Within 5 minutes he is getting me shots. Within a half an hour he is pushing me up against the wall for a good make out sesh in the dark breezeway between the front door and the bar. I always get my mark.

Before you know it, it’s last call, and the crew and I are ready to go to Denny’s. Bouncer sexy pants gets my number and triple checks that I am going to be at the white trash pool party the next day. I assure him that I will be there and we bounce.

We leave and head to Denny’s. I have never seen a Denny’s so packed during the daytime, let alone at 3 AM. My mind is promptly blown. It’s at this point that bouncer sexy pants starts blowing up my phone. I am not interested in hanging out with him right away because I am going to have to see him the next day at the white trash pool party. I want to keep the cat and mouse going a little longer, knowing what the ending to this is going to be anyways, or so I think, and I want the build up the suspense to keep going. I tell him I will see him the next day and to sleep tight. We all head back to our friends place and pass out.

Sunday:
I wake up cuddling with an insanely hot SuicideGirl. Life doesn’t suck. Any morning when that happens is awesome. We get our day going slowly, heading to her place to get changed and to get some food in our bellies. We grab some amazing empanadas and mack on them while we get our white trash outfits together. I am also drinking rum and coke out of a wine glass at this point – gotta keep it classy.

I change into a skull and confederate flag bikini, the remnants of some blue jeans that now function as shorts, and a white wife beater. The hair is backcombed to the max and in pigtails with a rolled up bandana. Jaime Pressly ain’t got shit on me.

We trek it over to Redondo Beach. As we walk up to the bar my eyes get as big as saucers. They have enclosed the parking lot with an open roof tent so that though it’s still sunny inside, no one on the street can see the debauchery going down. Its like a giant makeshift patio. We walk into this ghetto rigged tent of awesomeness and there is a huge blow up pool, a “lifeguard” tower, a menagerie of blow up animal rafts, and babes everywhere. I’m in heaven.

We beeline it straight for the bar. The whole time keeping my eyes peeled for bouncer sexy pants. Milloux tells me that he is standing pretty close behind me so I promptly lose my wife beater so I am in my bikini top and cutoffs. My timing is perfect. His jaw hits the floor. He comes over and starts giving us drinks.

Now that I’m a little buzzed we venture outside to the makeshift pool area again. Bouncer sexy pants is in true bro form, threatening to throw me in the pool. I end up manning up, doing the shimmy out of my little shorts, and hop in. We all continue drinking and partying.

Bouncer sexy pants then announces that he has go home, shower, nap and change since he has to be back at the bar by 7 because he is bartending that night. He then asks if I would like to join him. I’m hammered but I say yes anyways. You can guess the rest of this part of the story.

We head back to the bar. I continue drinking with my crew. We are all obliterated. We decide to head out at this point, I say goodbye to bouncer sexy pants. I trip walking down the street in my flips flops (this is hearsay, I don’t remember it, but I have the bloody and scraped knees to prove that it happened). We get back to the house and I pass out from exhaustion. Drinking in the sun all day is damn tiring.

My phone starts going off like crazy. Milloux wakes me up after the third missed call from bouncer sexy pants. I also see a couple texts from him. He is straight up begging me to come back to the bar. He is offering to pay for a cab to come and get me from wherever I am to get me back to the bar. He’s asking me to stay with him overnight in Redondo and then promising to take me back to my car in the morning, etc., etc. Is this guy for real? I put up a good fight because, honestly, I was not feelin’ like doing much of anything at this point. I was tired and semi drunk still. After a good half an hour of his badgering I relent and get dropped back at the bar while everyone else heads home.

Please note. From this point on, Bouncer Sexy Pants will be being referred to as Bouncer McNutsack. This next part of the story is a blow to my ego, but it needs to be told…

Bouncer Mc Nutsack got me a drink and we sat and chatted. He was bartending with one other dude. I sat at the bar and chilled, it was pretty dead inside, just a handful of people. Around 1.30 PM I started to notice that Bouncer McNutsack had been spending a grip of time at the end of the bar with an extremely plain looking chick and her friend. I began to feel some irritation building up but I pushed it aside. After all, he made such a huge deal about me coming back to the bar to see me again anyways.

About 15 minutes later I see him go into this bathroom with this chick. “Are you fucking kidding me?” is all that I can think. I sat there in shock for a good minute – jaw on the floor. I calmly got up and walked out. Still wearing his hat that I had borrowed earlier in the day at the pool party (and he is not getting it back, ha!). I was fuming at this point. Who does that? Homey was in the clear, I was gone, I was not coming back to the bar until he called me incessantly and begged me to come back. If you are going to hook up with some plain Jane why drag me back to the bar at all? My ego was more than bruised.

Still confused I trek it back to my car, which is a couple of blocks away. I am smart enough that I know that driving is not an option, so I turn on my seat warmer, curl up, and sleep it off in my bug.

I wake up the next morning, cold, tired, and still a little buzzed. I go to turn on my car – uh oh! I guess I forgot in my drunken pissed off stupor that turning on my seat warmer would drain my car battery. Woops! I am a little freaked out at this point since I am a good half an hour away from Huntington, where I live, and I don’t know anyone in Redondo Beach. I muster up my strength and walk to one of the nearby houses. These poor people open their door to a girl in cutoffs, yesterdays smeared makeup, and a confederate flag bikini asking for a jump start. They were the sweetest, kindest people and gladly help me out, just asking me to pay it forward – proof that there still are some really amazing people in this world. Sadly my car battery is so dead that even a jump won’t help.

I call my friend Justin from my work. I have no clue what else to do. I am still pretty limited down in SoCal at this point and don’t know a ton of people. If I wasn’t still slightly buzzed I probably would have been in tears. Justin drives a good half hour to come and rescue me. When he pulls up he sees me sitting on the curb and immediately asks what in the hell happened to me knees. I look down and see that they are all torn up and bloody. I have no recollection of falling down but tell him that that’s what I assume happened. He just smiles and shakes his head, looking at me like with a “how do you get yourself into these messes?” look, which I know all too well.

We charge up my car battery for a good half an hour. Sitting, talking, BSing about work and life. He’s a good guy. Good head on his shoulders and a heart of gold. The kind of guy who would give me the shirt off his back if I needed it, the kind of guy who would drive a half an hour out of his away after doing inventory the whole night before to sit with a blonde hot mess with scraped knees while her car battery charges. I try to turn the key and miraculously it starts. I let out an audible gasp of excitement and Justin starts laughing as he sees my face light up and gives me the best hug on the planet.

By the time all is said and done we are both beat, me from the above outlined escapades, and him from being up until 4 AM doing inventory. We decide to head back to my place in Huntington and to lay out by the pool. He picks up a of couple beers on the way back. We bathe in the SoCal sun, smoke a little, and drink a couple of Chimays.

All of a sudden, as we sit, laughing, smiling and telling stories I realize something: maybe what I am wanting is right in front of me. I don’t really know and am scared to take the chance, but could this work for me? Time will tell I guess. But I do know one thing, I have butterflies.

Xoxo
Bradley


Ps. I have not spoken with Bouncer McNutsack since these events occurred. For curiosities sake though, I would like to know what in the hell went down. So Bouncer McNutsack, you know who you are, if you happen to be reading this – what in the hell was that all about? Not only did you fuck me (or not as the case may be), but you also screwed the bartender you were working with who was forced to do all of your closing work while you man-whored it up in the dirty ass bathroom. Seriously? WTF?


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