My best friend, Brian, called me a couple of weeks ago with a bribe. I was all excited. What kinda bribe would he have in store?

Would he have some tickets to a kickass metal show? Probably not. He’s not really into metal and he’d probably rather get some tickets to something we could enjoy together. Maybe it was some Reds tickets? That would be cool.

Did he have a young lady I may have met once and wanted to see me again that he was going to ‘arrange’ her conveniently being in the same area he was going to take me to? Well as much as I love women, Brian’s history with those efforts is one of less than stellar performance. One girl that I was really into acted like she was into me and then all of the sudden turned off the faucet. Another girl that was really into me, I wasn’t so much into and when we did go out, I came to find that she’s not as laid back as she makes herself out to be. Plus, I prefer younger women and Brian likes them our age or older. My current romantic interest is six years my junior and his is a year older than him.

Did he have a bottle of some grade ‘A’ spirits we would drink in celebration of something? Brian and I enjoy the grade ‘A’ spirits all the time for no celebration other than living. As much as he was playing up this bribe, I doubted that was it.

When he finally told me, I was surprised to say the least!

Brian was having his girlfriend come in from Chicago and wanted the three of us to hang together last weekend. Ok, that may be special for him but what did I care? Girls come and go out of our lives all the time. What makes her so special?

In case you missed it, I did use the term ‘girlfriend.’ Brian actually used it and I was floored. A lot of people toss around certain words with ease and ‘girlfriend’ is one. Brian and I don’t. We’ve both been through a string of female companions, romantic interests, and friends with benefits in the past couple of years but have yet to have one that was special enough to call a girlfriend.

There had to be something special about this one. I was interested in meeting her. Oh, and Brian was getting us a couple of rooms at the Mariott and we were going to party righteously rockstar style!

I wasn’t able to leave Chillicothe until later than I really wanted to. Brian was playing that night with G Miles and the Hitmen at The Madison Theater. They were opening for Dilbert Mcclinton and had an earlier than usual curtain time. I finally got there with about two tunes left in their set.

After the set was over, Brian’s girlfriend located me. I had asked him to send me a picture of her or at least describe what she was wearing in a text, so I’d know who to look for. I guess he thought it would be funnier if I wandered around the place looking stupid instead. I figured that the band’s set would be over soon and I would just find Brian afterwards. Instead of looking for Brian’s girl, I decided to try to make some new friends.

And that’s when she found me. A sexy voice called my name from afar. I immediately turned to see a flaxen haired fair skin alluring creature of the fairer sex walking my way.

At first, I was excited. This excitement quickly turned to fear as she began approaching and I couldn’t remember her name or where I knew her from. She offered her hand and said, “My name’s Poopie. I’m Brian’s friend!”

And a wave of relief passed over me.

Yes I know, Poopie is one heck of a name for a girl. It’s not actually her real name. It’s a name I heard Brian calling her when he thought I wasn’t listening. So, out of respect for her privacy and total disregard for his, I’ll call her Poopie.

Now, Poopie was quite the looker. I could definitely see why Brian was interested in the wrapping. Brian and I both think hot chicks area a dime a dozen, so I knew there was some sorta coolness and brains in that total package. I would later discover that she was a forensics DNA scientist or something like that. Wow, she had a big brain too!

I followed her in hopes of meeting Brian. I was longing for some libations born of natural sulfur free spring water and didn’t want to imbibe without him. When she instructed me to have a seat, I noticed that I was at a table of gorgeous women and no dudes!

My life went from ok to fantabulous in a moment. The bevy of beautiful babes perched at this table was bountiful and babealicious! I had to pinch myself to make sure that I was still alive.

As it turns out, I knew them! They were either girlfriends or wives of the guys in G Miles & The Hitmen. This was even better.

Being surrounded by gorgeous women makes other chicks find you desirable. The fact that I was with them and there was nothing sexual between any of us drives that up. The thought process is that this guy is surrounded by beautiful women and he’s not hitting on them like it doesn’t matter and he’s around beautiful women all the time. This makes you seem safe and socially aware. I was planning on using this perception to my advantage.

Only, I made a mistake and told one of them later on that evening. I also think Brian said earlier that he was on a wingman mission. This would eventually be an asswhoop for me as Big ‘D’ was all about going to places where I was sure to get laid. I kinda made me feel like I seemed pathetic and I’m not all about that.

I am not outcome dependent. I just like to have fun and enjoy the ride that is my life. When I meet some neat people and make new friends, cool. When I meet a cute and fun young lady and we hit it off, great. When she decides that I am special enough to invite me to her bed or accompany me into mine, sweet. That whole experience just adds to my already kickass life!

Brian finally made his appearance! Jack followed shortly thereafter. When I asked, “oh, it’s gonna be one of those nights!” I knew I was in for some hell raisin’.

Dilbert McClinton hit the stage and the rest of the guys from G Miles joined us. This Dilbert guy was playing some old country style blues. I dug it. I did notice that he looked like a drunk and high Burt Reynolds when he sang though. Maybe he was drunk and high, I dunno.

I did some dancing, got felt up a little, and then returned to my friends to announce that I was hungry. We settled on a Cajun place down the road and began walking or cabbin’, I can’t really remember. It was one of those kind of nights remember?

We walked and there was a four piece jazz band playing on a stage behind the bar. The sax player looked shockingly like Brian’s Old Man. It was eerie.

The band was fab and I was really enjoying the etouffee. But there was this tractor beam pulling me towards the back of the place. I kept seeing hot chicks in formal attire walking around me to the back room. I had to see what was in there.

I stood my happy ass up and waltzed right in like I owned the place. There were loads of hot chicks all dolled up, food all over the place, and people in black bowties handing out drinks. I thought I had died and gone to heaven! That feeling lasted for about five seconds until one of the bigger guys wearing a bowtie asked me if I needed any help.

“Dude, I’m here for the party!”

“Sir, I think you may be looking for something else. I believe your party’s over there,” he said as he pointing over my shoulder.

“But I wanna be here!”

“Sir, the restroom is right over there. Would you like me to help you find it?”

Luckily for me, I was still sober enough to realize this was a polite yet firm way of telling me to leave. My presence wasn’t welcome there and should I decide to disobey his direction, I would be forcefully helped out.

I couldn’t tell you how many of them it would’ve taken to help me out, but I could’ve guessed how many of them there would be. The night was still young and I had no desire to have my head pounding that early. I took his advice and went to the bathroom.

When I walked back into the main dining area, I felt some water hit me. I looked around trying to find a leak somewhere. I guess the bartender saw this and admitted to splashing some water on me by accident. This was good as I started drinking for free, again!

From there we walked across the street to a quaint little bar upstairs from another restaurant. The pickins was slim in this place. Actually, it was nearly non-existent. Brian and his friends were buying me drinks and I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was staying.

My desire to stay slowly started to morph into a burning desire to toss myself out the window and on to the street below. That solo guitar guy act was depressing. He played the saddest, most downtrodden version of Billy Jean I have ever heard. This guy was like an dismal version of the Four Non-Blondes all rolled into one package with a penis. I announced I had to leave and the rest of the group couldn’t agree more.

We did a little pub crawlin’ into a bunch of places that Dee was certain I was going to ‘get laid in.’ I really just wanted to enjoy the company of my friends and have a few drinks. Every bar/pub I went to was lame on some level and I would want to leave. I finished my beer fast and was on to the next one.

This led to a lot of beer drinking. A lot of beer drinking. I started the night with a wad o’ cash in my pocket and by now, it was empty.

We made it back to Mariott and in true Brian and Mike fashion, we pulled out a bottle of whiskey and sat around talking about life. I quickly figured out why Brian was so excited about the night. He was with friends he loved.

As it turns out, Poopie and Brian are old friends from college. I’m not going to presume anything but did observe some flirtiness and boyfriend/girlfriend interactions. Now, I’m not saying he loves her on a romantic level, but definitely on a platonic one. That’s always a good basis for a romantic relationship.

Poopie is going through a divorce from an epically tragic douchebag optometrist. This Ed Hardy wearing mooseknuckle ran out on his marriage with some blonde hottie gold digger to Europe. He blew his whole wad on the Paris Hilton wannabe and has nothing to show for it except for a divorce suit.

Good job there, Mr Pretentious Sugar-Coated Prick!

We talked about eye doctor douche for a while and the layers of his douchery just got thicker and thicker. The more we peeled away, the thicker it became. I found out that he’s into role playing games and martial arts. He’s not into the kind martial arts where you kick ass or defend yourself. No, No, eye doctor douche likes the kind that’s more like ballet.

He also blogs about it and his RPG experiences. Not only is his life so boring he has to live a made up one in cyberspace, but he goes to cyberspace to tell all of the other virgins in his clan about it. I know he’s not physically a virgin, but his emotional status has reverted back to that.

He also blogs about his trials in separation from Poopie, calling her ‘Ex-Wife Lord 3000’. What a motard! There’s no way he’s been like that his entire life. Poopie is just too cool to ever have hooked up with, much less marry such a fuckstick.

I woke the next day early, around noon. Brian and Poopie had already been out to eat and wanted to go to the Cincinnati Museum Center. This is a rally neat place. I had been there before but didn’t remember until Brian reminded me it looked like the Hall of Justice, doo deedle deedle doo.

Hey, you can’t say Hall of Justice, doo deedle deedle doo, without singing that little soundbyte afterwards.

We pulled up to the parking lot attendant’s booth and asked her what her super-power was. I mean, she was after all working at the Hall of Justice, doo deedle deedle doo. When she wouldn’t tell us feigning some lack of knowledge of her super-power we ascertained it was shooting photons out of her nose ring. And then she laughed a happy laugh instead of an evil one and we knew the car was safe in her care.

The museum is the museum. I’m not going to go on and on telling you how cool it was. I will however tell you about the picture I wanted with the woolly mammoth.

You see, there’s a woolly mammoth dying a violent death in a freezing pool of water while being pulled down by the ice in the Ice Age Cavern. I’ve always wanted a picture of me strangling a woolly mammoth. The mammoth was close to the edge and I didn’t have to leap very far across the water to make my way to his neck for said picture. Unfortunately, Brian and Poopie didn’t think this was as good as an idea as I and began protesting the second I was on top of the mammoth.

Sorry, no picture.

We went back to the hotel, took a power nap, and left for a music festival Brian was playing with G Miles & The Hitmen. It was a neato little festival. I really liked that it had beer.

Once we were done there, we moved over to the Midway. The Midway is a great place right in Fort Thomas. The food’s good and the beer is cheap. We sat at our usual table and ordered some drinks.

I surveyed the landscape and noticed a couple of guys wearing UK hats. I just couldn’t resist. I walked up to the bar and gave them a rationing of dookie. I was so interested in the dookie slinging that I didn’t even notice the cutie sitting right next to wear I was standing.

She immediately acted interested in me and what I had to say. We talked about football and out of nowhere, not even with a little prompting by me, she said, “Well, buy me a shot and we’ll talk about it more!”

Oh yeah, like I’m gonna let her use me for free drinks that easily.

“I tell you what. I’m sitting right over there. You come on and join us and I’ll think about it.”

Not only did she join us, but she followed me. I thought, “Damn, this bitch must be thirsty!”

Now, I have to tell you that I saw right through her initial efforts to have me buy her a shot. But as she made her presence at the table known by crushing my ego, I felt a challenge. We were having a battle of wits and I was losing. After three rounds I was down one. She was getting a shot. This was just too entertaining for me.

But still, I wasn’t convinced that she was there for anything other than some drinks. She said that she didn’t hit on guys she didn’t like for drinks as there was too much room for confusion and bad vibes. Yeah, whatever. I don’t buy that for a second. But, like I said she was entertaining and I figured it was worth $3. Plus we agreed to buy a round at a time, so she would eventually have to make up for it.

She had a pretty storied past. She had just wrecked her car and got a DUI for it, but she was the Midway waiting for her parents to come from the music festival Brian just played at and take them home in their car. That didn’t quite add up. Why would it be a better decision for her to drive her parents home in their car when she had the DUI. She explained that they had been drinking. Duh, what was she doing?

She also told me that she made an appearance on GodsGirls.com when she showed me her tattoos. GodsGirls.com is a competitor to SuicideGirls.com, a site I’ve been published on, so I knew of it. She told me she was Suzie Slaughter on GodGirls.com. She also talked about how she tried stripping for a night and she did suspension shows from time to time.

I told her that I knew of GodsGirls.com and have submitted stuff to them in the past and that I was published on SuicideGirls.com. She said that she didn’t want to SG because they didn’t pay enough. I know what she meant. I haven’t shot for SG in some time.

She was working towards a master’s in hospitality management at Ohio State. She got her culinary bachelors from somewhere I can’t remember and did her internship in Italy. She had been to loads of different places, mostly Europe and Africa. When she said South Africa, Brian’s ears perked up.

All of this at the ripe old age of 23.

Brian bought the next round of shots and started talking about South Africa. I never really heard her answer of his questions. As a matter of fact now that I think about, she changed the subject pretty quickly. Right after that she sent a text to her best friend who was in Italy doing her internship.

We were getting ready to head to Terry’s Turf Club in Cincinnati to hear Brian play some real in your face jazz. She wanted to join us. Everybody was game.

All we had to do was have the last round of shots. You remember, the one she was supposed to buy? I asked her what she was going to buy for her round.

Oh, she explained that she didn’t have the money to buy any drinks because she was paying for her school all buy herself with no loans or financial aid. Brian felt sympathetic and let it pass. I don’t know if I bought it so much, but I let it pass. By this time, she had grabbed my twigs and berries twice and was touching me on the arm and shoulder quite frequently. She was also high-fiving a lot, which I found annoying after like the twentieth time.

Her phone rings. It’s the ‘rents. She has to leave to go pick them up and take them home. She informs us that they live just down the road and the trip should only take her 20 minutes or so.

This made me curious. Brian lives maybe five minutes by car and we can walk it about 10. Cab fare is less than $5. Why weren’t they taking a cab if they had planned on drinking? I guess poor planning runs in her family. She did claim to have just gotten a DUI.

She walked out the door and it dawned on me. I was never going to see her again. That hour or so of entertainment only cost me $3, so it was worth it.

We exchanged a couple of texts. She kept promising she was on her way back and wanted to go to Terry’s with us. 20 minutes turned into 40 and before you knew it an hour had passed. It was time to go to Terry’s and the wait for her return was an asswhoop.

I texted her, “We’re bouncing. See ya there!” I chose this instead of something like “It was nice to meet you” or “Take it easy” because I didn’t want it to come across as a deal closer. I knew it was though.

By the time we got to Terry’s a light drizzle that set in. We walked in and immediate found out that this place was way more popular than the number of seats it held. Standing outside wasn’t such a desirable option, as it was raining and some smokers were underneath an awning leaving very little room for anybody else, even more smokers.

A spot finally opened up at a back table and we sat down. We ordered our burgers with anticipation just in time to mosey on over to a better table. We perched up on the seats right up front and settled in for a night of great jazz.

The burgers were delicious. I can definitely understand why Food Network Magazine picked Terry’s as Ohio’s best place to get burgers. I measure my burgers by how many napkins it takes to eat them. These were five napkin burgers!

Just as we finished up our burgers and were talking with the drummer, a raging douchebag walked up to our table and asked the drummer if he could grab his sticks and play on his set. I think I may have met eye doctor douche’s Cincinnati version. This blonde Hurley shirt wearing spike hair having douche retard kept on asking, nay begging, the drummer to play his set.

The drummer guy was handling it all diplomatically, saying that the restaurant didn’t like it when people started banging on stuff during breaks and that he was scared douchebag would take his job. This guy wouldn’t stop. He kept on for maybe two minutes. I had enough.

“Dude, what’s your job?” I asked.

“I’m a landscaper,” he replied.

“Well this analogy is probably lost on you, because you’re dying for people to use your equipment and help you out. But he’s not. He doesn’t want you touching his set. Go away!”

“You’re an asshole! I used to play drums in high school. I know what I’m doing.”

“Just go away!” I said as I was thinking that I ride a lawn tractor twice a week but that doesn’t qualify me to run a landscaping business. Or maybe it does?

Douche went away, but not before tossing more insults at me. I have to admit, I kinda wanted to pummel that dweeb into a little pulpy mess and shove him into his own beer bottle. But, I was getting my way. He was leaving.

But, Butthead kept running his mouth!

“Dude, shut up! I’ve dropped it and you’re still running your mouth. Shut the copulate up! Seriously!”

Now people were getting nervous. Some of the restaurant workers came over to block any attempts either one of us would make jumping at the other. Brian was trying his best to diffuse the situation with talk of logic and reason.

But Butthead douche wasn’t hearing it. He kept on running his mouth as his friend and friend’s girlfriend ushered him out. Now, I really won. He has to leave and I get to stay and hear some great jazz.

What a dumbass.

Speaking of dumbasses, I woke Sunday morning and checked GodsGirls.com for Suzie Slaughter. Not only is there not a Suzie Slaughter on GodsGirls.com, but there’s not even a Suzie or a Slaughter. Hell, there’s not even a Slaughter for that matter.

I couldn’t resist. I texted Little Miss Liar, Liar Pants on Fire and said, “You’re quite the storyteller. I checked out God’sGirls.com this morning and didn’t see any Suzie, much less a Suzie Slaughter.

“I, however, didn’t lie. You can see for yourself at http://www.MichaelNewbern.com.

“I don’t think I list SG as a publishing credit, but I do list most of my others.

“All bark and no bite makes Suzie Slaughter the loser last night.”

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Dear Abby...........................