long effing evening. started out swell.... but... eh.....
o'neill's. then the girls wanted to go to marina grill. fine. we did. then we went to jenkinson's. long f*cking story. not getting into it. some f*ckhead stole my f*cking camera because he wanted his "picture erased" and i had already erased his ugly no-necked image from my gadget... then he grabbed my arm and grabbed my camera - oh, by the way, it's my friend's ex-boyfriend who did this (and gigglemom thinks i shouldn't effing tell the story - and maybe i shouldn't... whatever. i am not proud of this, but hey, it effing happened.)
so this no-necked bastard (i think that's where i left off) f*cking grabs my camera... it's wrapped around my wrist... and i grab it as well - it's my EFFING camera... don't bloody touch my technology crap you f*cking musclehead!
so there we were, Nick Asshole and me, in an arm wrestle with my camera.... then he grabs my left bicep... oh. hell. no. you. didn't. (hey, i only had 5 drinks.)
yadda yadda... camera. left bicep. hurting. me. i let of the effing camera. and he takes it. i say "i already erased your photo." and he says "step off, bitch! i am gonna erase it" - so i am all in his face (hey, i lived in jersey city for 7 years. bite me.) and saying " i will show you, if you let me have the camera" - because, again, not for nothing, but this is my baby. i bloody shelled out over $600 for the camera & accessories... f*ck you you tanning salon inch high necked balding f*ckhead.
anyway...
so whatever.... i punch him...
yeah. the big musclehead with the thinning hair and no neck (did i mention the lack of a stump that holds one's skull up?) gets pissed and gets all psycho on me because i fricking gave a hey-i-haven't-worked-out-in-eight-years-and-have-no-muscle-tone-in-my-entire-right-arm-and-i-am-a-girl-girly-punch.
whatever.
barely grazed his cheek (woo! claddagh ring!)
anyway - whatever, gigglemom, you can growl, i know you are pissed i am telling the story.... so he puts my camera in his front pocket and says that he's keeping it and that he's going to f*cking kick my ass.
hey. bite me. i am not about to be stepped on my this schmuck who has a napolean complex. (he's 5'8" - if that)
oh, and he's yapping about how he pays more in taxes than me... whatever.... maybe you should claim 0 then assh*le. wtf?
blah blah blah... mind you i step back and say 'I'll give you 45 seconds to look through my photos and see that i erased them'
he: "don't you tell me what to do, bitch"
(um, pardon me? he just called me a bitch again.!?!?)
me - walking over to bouncer... "he stole my camera, yes, i admit i gave him a really weak girly punch on his cheek, but he has my stolen property in his pants...."
manager comes out. i repeat. manager goes to Nick the Asshole. they start laughing...
then bouncer makes nick the asshole back off...
do i have my camera? no.
manager comes to me, says they are talking with "NtA" and then they drag him into the back room.
me... well, i am talking with the manager saying that i erased his bloody photo, that i am not a violent person, that he grabbed my arm and hurt me and he stole my camera....
at this point, erin is frustrated.
what happens when a frustrated gigglechick is in the vicinity?
she cries.
this makes manager uncomfortable.
manager calls police to get camera unharmed from Nick the Asshole.
camera is given back to gigglechick. unharmed - except smelling like bad, cheap cologne.
here are photos from the evening sans image of Nick the F*cking Fricking P*ssy assh*le.
[i have to go ice my hand now. yes, i had the thumb on the outside, but it was still a girly punch and i am delicate.]
