The Crying Girl

Do you know girls who cry when they have too much to drink? Sadly, I am one of those girls. I know, it's fucking pathetic. I really don't over indulge all that often. An apple martini here. A ice cold beer in the bottle there. But every once in a while I hit a doozy. This weekend was a doozy.

Having not eaten all day and working until after 11:00, we were all hungry and irritable. We decide to go change clothes and hit the hotel bar for food. Me being the girl who doesn't give a fuck, I put on my plaid pj's and head downstairs. About 6 of out "dads" are in the bar when we get there. Fuck me running, I do not want to make polite tonight. But I plaster a smile on my face and join them.

The bar did not have any Apple Pucker so Hot Dad decided I should drink Raspberry martinis. Bad idea. First, the alcohol content in martinis is super high. Second, I had no business drinking on as little sleep and food as I had. Third, those drinks are sweet. You can down two in no time flat and not feel it for another 30 minutes. Or maybe I'm just a lightweight.

As I sit there listening to the Bitch tell Hot Dad why I favor his child I am overcome with the need to slap her. I want to reach up and smack her so hard that beer shoots out of her mouth. I contain myself. Barely. Basically she tells Hot Dad that I work so well with his daughter because he is hot. Fucking cunt. In my mind, I see myself breaking the martini glass and slitting the Bitch's throat. Oddly enough I refrain from actually committing murder.

Then we have Nerd dad. He is asking about a jillion questions about the competition. I have just spent 16 hours working my ass off. I do not want to Sports Center the whole weekend. "Amy" decided to do play by play commentary. I love "Amy". Really I do, but I want to stab her with my fork. STOP FUCKING TALKING ABOUT WORK! I just sip my drink and smile politely.

At the end of the table we have College Dad. You know the guy who decides it's cool to play quarters when you are 40 years old. The Bitch joins in. Listen, I like to have fun as much as the next gal but playing quarters in a hotel bar just seems a bit desperate. Are we trying to hard to be cool? Maybe I'm wrong. The other 3 dad's are playing pool and flirting with some chick with big boobs. Men suck.

At some point I realize I'm drunk and should probably go upstairs and refrain from conversation. I knew it was a problem when Hot Dad and Nerd Dad were talking to "Amy" about boyfriends and I said, "Um HELLO! I'm the bitch here that should be the center of attention." They both just looked at me and cracked up laughing. God, I'm an embarrassing attention whore.

So to get to the crying part. Hot Dad and Nerd Dad start talking about what a wonderful person I am. Hot Dad says Young Daughter and Tiny Daughter talk about me 24/7. Nerd Dad says that Nerdette 1 and Nerdette 2 have completely changed since I took over their training. Next thing I know, a tiny tear rolls down my cheek. What the fuck? That tear was followed by about 57 more. Hot Dad and Nerd Dad are speechless. College Dad tells me to have another drink. "Amy" just keeps saying it's going to be alright. The Bitch tells me to quit being a crybaby.

I have become the crying girl in a bar. The dreaded girl we all new in high school or college. The girl that people made fun of on Monday morning. Fuck I'm a retard. I think I may have to stay home from work and hide. Not only from embarrassment but the wives are not going to be happy that The Dads stayed out with us till 3:30. What the fuck was I thinking going to a bar in my jammies with The Dads? Someone should slit my throat with a martini glass.