G is for Guarantee...
"I guarantee you I will screw this song up"
The word guarantee always reminds me of that quote. It's from Nirvana's Unplugged album. How that relates to this and the rest of things, we will see.
I am in Reno, Nevada, it is the summer of either 2002 or 2003. A friends aunt had just been married. The bride, groom, men in suits, women in dresses, little kids twirling, drunk cousins and my friend are milling about. We are at the Peppermill in some suite. There's a jacuzzi tub and wet bar. (Actually, it might have just been a bar. I'm not sure what a wet bar is.) There is also a big curved black couch. The decor is total 80's-coke-party-Vegas-Lifetime-movie-shit. A drunk cousin comes bouncing in with two bottles of vodka he swiped from another suite that had a maid in it cleaning the bathroom. I am sitting on the couch. I am suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that the bed that some little kid is bouncing on will soon have all sorts of other similar but different movements happening on it. I hear water being drawn in the bath and there is talk of a baby taking a bath in the jacuzzi tub. This is supposed to be a wedding reception. My friend's mother taps me on the shoulder and asks if I am ok. I had been sitting next to her on the couch and when she touched me it occurs to me that I had trailed off in mid-sentence. I tell her the Coors Light must be getting the best of me quicker than I expected. I am peeling at the label to distract me from the strange reception that I am at. She puts her hand on my thigh, our eyes meet, and she hands me the label from her beer.
"You know, if you give someone an intact label peeled from a beer then they owe you a sexual favor."
7/26
Sink into the Pacific blog
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