So these bitches got in a fight...

and it made me hungry…

Two people walk into a bar (obviously one of those people is me.) We order our drinks and before I could squeeze the second lime into my vodka tonic, a female guard wearing a “Security” jacket in an ungodly shade of lime green comes running through the bar yelling “FIGHT!!!” My memory instantly jumps back to high school when some nosey bitch yells it out in the cafeteria and everyone scurries like hyenas to see which asshole is getting the shit beat out of them over something as stupid as the last piece of Mexican pizza.

Get this. The fight is taking place in the girl’s bathroom. Coming from someone who has to pee about 937 times a day, THIS is the time that I don’t have to “go.” Are you fucking kidding me? I’m dying…just DYING to get a picture of blood on the tile grout from in there to post on Facebook. I’d have to get past Barney Fife, a fat ass eating fried pickles and an actual real life cop. Of course this is the night that I decide to not wear my slutty policewoman outfit, much to my friend’s chagrin. I mean, since I wear it to the grocery store and all…

My buzz sets in and two middle aged frazzled, yet also buzzed women walk up to the bar and re-tell their story of how they were in the bathroom when this debacle began. Grasping their chest in amazement because they’ve “never seen such a thing” and this is just “all too much for them”, they tell us that there were in fact three women in this bar brawl. Fucking bonus! I can’t WAIT until these bitches come hobbling out so I can get a good look. I look at my friend and we start taking bets about what they might look like. Bets placed…we wait.

My vodka is now gone and we start to see some more action. They’re coming out. It’s like that feeling you get when Mario Lopez is opening the envelope for the next Miss America. “Second runner up…Glenda Buster Cherry! First runner up…Barb E. Dahl!”

First girl comes out. She’s wearing a corset that’s not only too tight but attached to it is a pink tutu. That’s right people. She got in a fight wearing a tutu. You gotta be a tough bitch to hold your own wearing that shit.

Second girl comes out. I’m not sure if the teeth she was missing was before the fight or after. And was the shirt she was wearing off-the-shoulder and torn previous to this event? This one stumped me. No blood, but she probably had to get her “hair did” the next day to fix the mess in the back. No doubt there was a chunk missing.

And so we wait for the third person to walk out. We would’ve waited forever because…wait for it……………………the third girl ROLLED out. A fucking wheelchair – awesome! Seriously. And folks. I have a feeling SHE was the winner. I’m not even sure how you would handcuff her but I’m sure she had a pretty good reason for wanting to tear those bitches up. You just don't fuck with someone in a wheelchair. Bad karma right there I tell ya. But there are still so many questions left unanswered. How did she do it? Did she have a whiffle ball bat hidden somewhere? And what actually pissed her off? I didn’t have the balls to ask her, so I guess we’ll never know. But this all made me pretty hungry.

Leaving the bar we spot a “Korean BBQ Tacos” food cart. I couldn’t resist. Must. Have. Korean. Tacos that is. I honestly can’t remember if I had beef or pork, but the shit was awesome. One day, I’ll tell you the tale of a twirled fried potato on a stick and all the innuendos that came along with ordering one.