Warning: Another vicious entry ahead!
I could discuss all the hockey stories that I heard today, or detail the deliciousness of my first Primanti’s sandwich, but my favourite anecdote from my second day in Pittsburgh happened later in the evening, and I’d much rather talk about that. After a long and disappointing afternoon (minus my lunch outing – that wasn’t disappointing!), I was sitting around the lobby after I finished my Top 10 Tuesday, and decided that I better head out for dinner. It was already after 8PM! That Primanti’s sandwich lasted me all day, and I was still feeling really full. Apart from being on the brink of almost hungry, I was grumpy. My room was haunted, and I didn’t find any damn Arizona boy to ease my suffering. I decided I was going to go out and stir up some trouble if I could find the right situation.
I headed up to Monterey Bay in Mt. Washington. After an irritating cab ride (irritating in the sense that I drove the cabbie nuts – don’t worry, I gave him a HUGE tip), I waltz into Monterey Bay with a diabolical look in my eye and an evil grin on my face. One way or another, I was going to shit disturb up some fun tonight and I didn’t care how it was going to go down. Monterey Bay had a really great view and a menu to die for. Unfortunately, the atmosphere was destroyed when a big headed blond mule in a trampy black dress walked into my portion of the restaurant like she was too good for the world, despite the fact that her herpes spores were likely becoming air born with every breath she took. The only thing about her of any value was the silicone in her boobs. Over-processed, over-tanned, and over used, the only thing worse than this mule/bullfrog look alike is the brainless white v-neck wearing douche bag that calls her girlfriend. Guys really are idiots, aren’t they?
Of course, I could have been personally offended by the trash on legs, but for some strange, sick reason, I was extremely excited. My lips curled into that evil grin again – here was my opportunity for trouble. With the interest of myself and every other awesome woman out there who has had to take a back seat to a fake boobed, bleach blond, eating disordered piece of garbage because most men are too stupid to realize that dating a girl who looks like she has never met a d*ck she wouldn’t s*ck is not a good thing, I immediately devised two possible plans of action.
It was kind of scary how lightning fast I thought these up. The first idea was to pay for the douche bag’s (boyfriend’s) dinner and attach a little note reading, “At least you have good taste in food.” The second was my favourite, but I figured all parties at that table would be too stupid to figure out the message, and that trash-plants (trash +implants – my new fav word – sorry sister/wife) would likely chalk it up to yet another person thinking she was totally “hot” and “not a hideous blonde mule.” My plan was to send her a Blow Job shot – you know, on account of her inability to refuse them in the non-alcohol sense. I waited patiently for my server to come back so I could execute whichever plan popped out of my mouth first, but, alas, trash-plants, doucher, and company exited the premises before it could go down. I was mildly disappointed, but at the same time I was strangely satisfied almost as if I was able to succeed in my scheme before trash-plants went back to her hotel to engage in the only activity she likely does well (lots of practice, you know).
Anyway, I spent the remainder of the night partaking of two desserts – one was for charity, AND I gave my server some to take home because she was going on about how much she loved them. See, I can be nice too sometimes. I ordered Oreo lollipops and root beer truffles (couldn’t resist when I heard they were root beer flavour). I also regaled the staff with my harrowing tales from my haunted hotel room. I was completely energized from nearly ruining trash-plant’s and/or doucher’s night, so I boldly invited two handsome men waiting for a cab back downtown to share mine. They were nice enough to even pay! As the cabbie drove an exhilarating 30 miles over the speed limit the entire way back, I started thinking about how dumb I was to think that I needed a man to protect me from the ghost in my hotel room. If anything, the ghost should be afraid of me!
P.S. Don’t forget that tomorrow is game day! TSN is broadcasting the Coyotes @ Pens game, and I’ll be sitting behind the Coyotes’ bench. Facebook or Tweet me if you see me! 
