Only Mr. Pansy

Only Mr. Pansy

Something Pansy Found 2 Lifetimes Ago

Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, But to be fearless in facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain,
But for the heart to conquer it.
Let me not look for allies in life's battlefield,
But to my own strength.
Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,
But hope for the patience to win my freedom.
Grant me that I may not be a coward,
Feeling your mercy in my success alone,
But let me find the grasp of your hand in my failure.

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)

Monday, January 28, 2008

#2 -- Pansy Walks Into A Bar And...

Once upon a time, long, long ago:


It's Pansy's FIRST DAY out of her leg cast, which she had been wearing for 4 months. When Pansy breaks a leg she does a Very Good Job of breaking the leg. [Remember that, those of you who foolishly incur the Wrath of Pansy.] So, now she's been set free and it's the statewide Harley Rally Weekend up in Redding, CA. Oh, boy! Off a bunch of us head for a weekend of fun. We take over the hotel we were staying at (we were about 75% of the hotel's guests that weekend). We drink, cavort, yell and make loud mayhem all day long in the parking lot up to 10pm, when the hotel owner told us he was sorry but we had to quiet down now. Even though he, and the rest of the clientele, had been greatly enjoying the show we were putting on.

Being the Safe and Sane drinkers that we were AND Pre-Planners, our crowd then walked on down the street to a nearby bar that we had discovered earlier in the day. Walk to the bar, walk back to the hotel. Brilliant! Except for that part about we didn't know what kind of bar it was. It was a "hat" bar: all cowboy, all the time. And very, very redneck. Which apparently includes/requires a Deep and Abiding Hatred of Bikers.

We stagger up to the front door and the Bouncer/Maitre'D guy looks panicked, did some kind of hand signal/high sign toward the inside of the building and asks "How many of you are there?" I am in front of the pack and say "Oh! THIS many." and hold up all 10 of my fingers and proceed to open and close my hands many times. By now the rest of the bouncers are all at the front door and they look at me in stunned silence for a few seconds. Then they laughed and let us all in for only ONE cover charge but herded us over to a particular corner of the bar, up front to the left of the live band. Plus, one of the bigger bouncers then stands nearby for the entire night. Turns out he was there to protect us from the regular patrons.

We, in our innocence, have no clue for a long time that we are in a "hat" bar and we proceed to drink more, laugh, yowl and try to line dance. We wanted some rock and roll tunes but that was not part of the band's deal--they said they were afraid they would get in trouble. So they said. Ppfffttt!! Everyone has their price, you know, so we proceeded to give the band $20 every once in awhile whereupon they defied death and would play two rock and roll songs. Which really did send the rest of the crowd into seizures of anger and dismay and they would all sit and pout and glare at us while we danced to the rock and roll tunes. I don't know why. I mean, after all, we would dance with THEM on the country tunes. Can't we all just get along?

One cowboy came over determined to pick a fight....with Big Guy. And we didn't call him Big Guy for nothing. It was laughable. Shrimp/Cowboy mincingly grabs Big Guy with a finger and thumb on Big Guy's sleeve and snarls "You knocked my beer over. Buy me a new one." Of course that had not happened, and for some reason we think he is joking so we all laugh and continue with our partying. You cain't laugh in the face of a cowboy! Shrimp/Cowboy then pleads with the bouncer to get rid of the "troublemaker." Which bouncer obliged by kicking Shrimp/Cowboy out of the bar. Fortunately, that seemed to convey the message to the rest of the crowd: chill. Which they did. Some even came nearby to look at us up close.

That's when I discovered the Barber Chair. I was very afraid of it. But the cowboys (not the cowgirls for some reason) seemed to survive it so I began to make whiny noises about could I try it? The cowboys looked askance, my crew said they'd buy the drink, so of course we know this is all going to end badly. You (me) get in the barber chair, order the shot you want, the bartendress slams the chair backwards so you are flat on your back, she pours the liquor straight from the bottle into your mouth, you close your mouth, bartendress spins the chair around a few times, then slams you up into an upright position which supposedly makes/helps the shot go straight down. Well, that was pretty danged fun--especially if you scream before/after the shot! Kind of like a weird roller-coaster. I demand MORE shots. I lost count at 14 of them. And that's why it did not go badly after all. The cowboys loved it. Apparently none of them had seen 14+ shots happen before. I finally stopped....because the cheap ass friends we were with ran out of MONEY! Even the cowboys had chipped in on a couple of the shots. Plus, I was, after all, hogging (Harley Pun!) the chair. Off I go for more dancing, yelling, drinking, etc. Then it's time to go back to the hotel. We walk out of the bar yelling goodbye to all our new friends and I trip over a low concrete "curb" in the parking lot (the kind that are at the head of individual parking spots) and am headed down---fast and face first.

As I am falling at an incredible rate of speed it dawns on me that if Someone doesn't do Something NOW there will be serious facial damage and possibly an ambulance ride, etc. In a totally amazing display of reaction time and miraculously choosing the Correct Reaction, I place my hands, palm down, at my armpits so when I hit the ground I am in a perfect Military PushUp position. I proceed to do a pushup and upon realizing what I have done I do about 10 more pushups. Just to prove, of course, that I "meant to do that." Now the cowboys are really impressed. They were at the bar the next night, too, and things were much friendlier that evening right from the start.

Of course, I have already mentioned in earlier stories that I AM the Most Manned Up Woman On Earth. Well, now the Redding Cowboys know so, too. I am grateful that I did indeed save myself from terrible damage and probably some pain. On second thought, I'll bet I would have felt nothing. And it is Totally True: Pansy CAN hold her booze. She has NEVER had a headache, hangover, thrown up, been too "sick" to work, nothing. Worse, she doesn't even change personality! The only down side is she yells until she loses her voice. Some bastards claim that is the only UP side to Pansy Full O' Booze.

4 comments:

Howard said...

Damn! Everything alcohol does to a person -- but more specifically -- everything a man counts on alcohol to do to a woman, Pansy's already got when sober! No wonder your crazy-ass-drunk stories are so... disappointing. Nothing changes.

Pansy Palmetto said...

It certainly is a terrible and ego-destroying disappointment to realize if Pansy won't have someone when she's sober she sure as hell won't have them any other ways. That's why Mr. Pansy especially likes that Pansy is so math-impaired.

HER: Wow! That's what 12 inches looks like, honey?
HIM: Um, sure, Pansy. Yep. That there sure is 12 inches. Who you gonna believe? Me or some lying tape measure?

Anonymous said...

Got a question for you Pansy ... There are 7 girls in a bus.
Each girl has 7 backpacks.
In each backpack, there are 7 big cats.
For every big cat there are 7 little cats.
Question: How many legs are there in the bus?

Tip: the bus is red

Pansy Palmetto said...

Anonymous you asshole. This is NOT a blog for people (and I use the term very loosely in your case) who have Hunch-Backed SchoolGirl Pussy Fetishes.

Nevertheless, the answer, you disturbing perv, is:

2 Legs: Yours since you are the driver of the bus in your sick, twisted, disgusting, very very very HOT fantasy which always goes terribly awry once the "girls" see your gawdawful ugly face.