Skuzby's Sucks

Okay, whatever, shut up about the book...listen...so, I've never gone to Busby's in Santa Monica because it's literally a concrete building with no windows at all, painted neon green with a cheezy neon sign hanging kind of askew, and it just dosen't look appealing to me at all. Call me a snob, but I like my bars a little less--in the words of a close personal aspiring comedian--rape-y. Anyway...as I was driving home from a previous engagement, I realized that I was about to drive by said Busby's and that there was a going away party for my friend Serge, going on within that commercial replica of Bagdad's own Green-Zone. So, not wanting to go to bed sober at 10:30 on a friday night, like the good alkie I am, I decided to turn into the drive and hand over the last four dollars I had to the sketchy vallet with the sweaty moustache. And I must admit...I'm glad I did.
While the first hour went by slowly and soberly, the alcohol my mom bought me, via her Target Visa, started to catch up to me, and the mass of too-old-to-be-here gyrators who were seriously attacking my eyes with a vengence at every turn, started blending into the scene, and the pop-y dance tunes started consoling my bitter, too-clean-to-be-here attitude. And that, my dears, is when the fun began. The place is really big and has tons of dimly lit nooks and crannies where I'm sure seedy stuff is attempted and accomplished every weekend without fail, so I lost my group a bunch of times, but in the process of rambling around aimlessly trying to re-connect, I got in more people watching than I've been able to in a WHILE. But, let me get to the basic point...while I was wandering around in the almost dark, could've SWORN I saw Cuba Gooding Jr. talking to some NASTY UGLY white chick and cheking me out. But I laughed it off, and kept walking. half way around my second lap, again, I see Cuba. Smiling in all his SHOW ME THE MONEY glory. and I think...smiling at me...? now...this would seem seriously rediculous, but don't forget that this is the same trashy dive bar that Brittany and K-fed frequented while the Pop princess was preggers with baby Preston, so I guess it could actually be Cuba...I mean...I know he lives in Brentwood, because I almost ran him over once...or...at least I thought it was him...FYI: I really almost did hit Ryan O'Neil once crossing the street. Seriously, I had to slam my breaks on because he decided to j-walk in the middle of San Vicente at like 5 o'clock rush hour, and once I did stop he SLAMMED his hand down on my hood and SCREAMED "NO!!!!" That freaked me the FUCK out, because Paper Moon is one of my favorite movies ever and I keept thinking that if I had my DVD with me I totally could've eased off the break real slow, and held him under my car long enough to get him to autograph it. how awesome would THAT have been??? anyway...back to Cuba...so after the second time I saw him I was just a little confused, but then I found my friends again, so I forgot about it...UNTILLL...I was back at the bar getting another round (thanks mom) and I glanced over at the corner booth, and THERE HE WAS with a new group of homely blondes, and looking my way, smiling all big again. well...I didn't want to be presumptuous, so I looked around, and realized that there weren't any other girls around...looked back at Cuba...and before I knew it, he literally LEPT over the side of the booth, glided over my way, threw his arm around my neck and screamed at the bartender "WE CAN'T LOVE 'EM ALL, BUT WE CAN CERTAINLY TRY, RIGHT!?!?!" planted a HUGE WET KISS on my cheek, and bounced back over to his seat in the booth. I swear. I mean, there's like 15 other stories I could tell about all the people I either met or watched barf in the bathroom sink at that skuzzbuckety place, but I think that one's the best. That one and the fact that I was sufficiently buzzed by the end of the night that when I felt bad for not replying to G's "where are you" text because I was on the balcony smoking, that I screamed "I DIDN'T GET YOUR TEXT" as soon as he found me out there. SMOOOOTH, Al. Real smooth. Anyway, just thought I'd share that with y'all.