My friend, Kevin, is a godsend.
We met at J.P. Licks in Jamaica Plain, Boston, MA. I started working there the day after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and Kevin was my boss. We spent the better part of a year laughing at each other, having ice cream fights with the kiddies, trading milkshakes for pizzas with the guys across the street, alternately playing punk-ska and GWAR in the back as we did the dishes, and generally chumming around. (There was no actual chum, persay: ie no fish guts or vomit: just friends).
A lot of my time there felt like something out of the movie "Cocktail" -- the bartending part, not the hot-sex-under-the-waterfall part.
One of our co-workers was this pretty cool buttery butch dyke tweaker. One time, after the place was closed, she played us this song called "Ass and Titties"...guess what it was about? Guess what the only two words in the whole damn song were? Call me sometime, I'll sing it to you.
So one day, she decided to leave JP Licks and head north to Cambridge (Somerville?) to work with some other butch dyke tweakers in their butch dyke tweaker ice cream shop. We were decidedly hurt by this, and vowed revenge (especially after the little cop-out didn't call us for a whole month afterwards -- bitch don't do that to two Leos). So Kevin and I and another cohort (Mara? Ethan?), after getting off of work late one night, grabbed some bandanas, some whipped cream and a bucket of cones and headed over the river. We stalked her outside of the shop, and once as they had closed up the place, Kevin ran up to her with the whipped cream, while I dumped the majority of the cones down her raver pants and added a smack for good measure. We took off hooting hysterically into the night.
Kevin and I recount this story through gasping laughter.
"I'm such an asshole, Kevin."
"Oh, no you're not. You're not an asshole if it's funny."
More aching belly laughter.
Afterwards, the conversation turned to the Boston Fetish Flea and and of course, Tentacle Porn.
AAAAHHHhhhhh...... there is nothing like an old friend calling you on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
We met at J.P. Licks in Jamaica Plain, Boston, MA. I started working there the day after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and Kevin was my boss. We spent the better part of a year laughing at each other, having ice cream fights with the kiddies, trading milkshakes for pizzas with the guys across the street, alternately playing punk-ska and GWAR in the back as we did the dishes, and generally chumming around. (There was no actual chum, persay: ie no fish guts or vomit: just friends).
A lot of my time there felt like something out of the movie "Cocktail" -- the bartending part, not the hot-sex-under-the-waterfall part.
One of our co-workers was this pretty cool buttery butch dyke tweaker. One time, after the place was closed, she played us this song called "Ass and Titties"...guess what it was about? Guess what the only two words in the whole damn song were? Call me sometime, I'll sing it to you.
So one day, she decided to leave JP Licks and head north to Cambridge (Somerville?) to work with some other butch dyke tweakers in their butch dyke tweaker ice cream shop. We were decidedly hurt by this, and vowed revenge (especially after the little cop-out didn't call us for a whole month afterwards -- bitch don't do that to two Leos). So Kevin and I and another cohort (Mara? Ethan?), after getting off of work late one night, grabbed some bandanas, some whipped cream and a bucket of cones and headed over the river. We stalked her outside of the shop, and once as they had closed up the place, Kevin ran up to her with the whipped cream, while I dumped the majority of the cones down her raver pants and added a smack for good measure. We took off hooting hysterically into the night.
Kevin and I recount this story through gasping laughter.
"I'm such an asshole, Kevin."
"Oh, no you're not. You're not an asshole if it's funny."
More aching belly laughter.
Afterwards, the conversation turned to the Boston Fetish Flea and and of course, Tentacle Porn.
AAAAHHHhhhhh...... there is nothing like an old friend calling you on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
3 comments:
I think Maralena was the other instigator for that one. Although Ethan would have done it if he was there.
I think we tied her up with an apron too, or something. Aprons were involved. Unless we were wearing them as masks...
Anyway, wheee!
Love you,
Kevin
oh yeah, and I don't know if you were around for this, but JP Licks bought that other ice cream store a few years later. Haha.
HAH!! No way, I wasn't around for that. * sigh * JP Licks. Like cancer and Starbucks.
There were masks, weren't there? Oh, this story just keeps getting better and better.
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