Striper Skank and Kathleen

For my 22nd birthday a couple of friends thought it would be fun to take me Downtown (back then the party was on Main Street) and surround me with strippers before presenting me with a blow up doll and a cake in the shape of boobies. For those in the club not in our group I can only assume it looked like a bachelor party and in all honesty, if I have a bachelor party, I hope to god it does not involve skanky strippers (as opposed to decent ones?), boobie cakes and blow up dolls.

Now I was faced with a prediciment. What do I do with said blow up doll (I named her Kathleen) and how do you escape the skank of stripper grinding? While I have yet to resolve the ever elusive issue of washing off stripper skank, I did eventually rid myself of the blow up doll.

Kathleen rode in my trunk for a good year and half. This was not for ease of mobility, I assure you. Rather, it was becuase where the hell do you dispose of a blow up doll? Certainly not at home. Trashmen can be very judgmental. At work? "Yeah I saw the pet shop guy dumping a body in the dumpster last night." That would be a no. My only sensible option was to leave her in the trunk until I found a suitable place to bury her.

I would like to interject that this may or may not have been the result of the Sicilian in me bubbling to the surface when it heard the words "get rid of the body."

And so Kathleen became my body in the trunk after a night of strippers and vodka.

A year down the road I am picking up a date from her apartment for dinner and a play. We are dressed up for the theatre and of course as we arrive she wants to leave her purse in the car but downtown is not the best place to do so, so she asks me to pop the trunk.

Awesome.

I pop the trunk, having forgotten all about Kathleen, and BLAMMO she starts yelling "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!" At this point I still dont know what the hell is going but I am rushing to the back of the car like she is getting mugged and low and behold, Kathleen is half covered under the clutter of recent trip to galveston to collect marine specimens and bioturf.

For those of you not educated in marine biology, it was basically a shovel, sand and tarps.

Tell me what you think she was thinking.

Yeah, I know. Fuck.

I proceed to explain everything, she laughs nervously, and we go on with the night. I never heard from her again.

The next day I decide it is time to finally be rid of Kathleen the cock blocker. I have no idea where to take her but I do know that it has to be done. This comes to me as I am standing in an Autozone parking lot staring into my trunk thinking, "Should I stab her to deflate her?"

And so I tried to stab her with the only thing I had. My keys. I failed. I did however manage to grab the attention of everyone in the parking lot. After trying to stab the goddam doll I said fuck it and looked around for the nearest trashcan. I figured if I moved fast enough I would minimize the number of people who saw me.

So the trashcan was full and I spent another 5 minutes trying to stuff this now burned, stabbed and disfigured blow up doll into the 6 inch opening of a trashcan. Inconspicuous I was not.

The end product was me getting it half way in and saying "fuck it good enough" only to walk away from two legs sticking out of a trashcan out side of Autozone. I had to move through a gathered crowd of employees and customers, my audience, to get back to my car.

Akward.