Drinking Is Fun But Maybe There Should Be Rules

This may be a shorter post than normal (possibly a blessing in a false beard and moustache) but I feel like people deserve to hear this particular story. A few weeks ago, the Fleetch, her ex-girlfriend (normally and lovingly referred to as 'Tanyakit', 'Cublet' or 'Shut Your Pretty Mouth') and I were all out at a local gay bar. This was in fact the night I was (I suppose the only appropriate word is "accosted", although in my mind I'm leaning more towards "emotionally molested") by a young lady who was very drunk and horribly, terrifyingly, seemed more than a little obsessed with my teeth. Now, my teeth are fairly normal. They're not perfect, sure, but I don't think there is much you could criticise. I rarely think about them in detail, given that I only use them for crushing stuff in my mouth, and occasionally for tearing open a packet of something if I can't find scissors and the Fleetch isn't around. But this girl looked at me like she wanted to tear my mouth apart and make trophies out of me. My breaking point came when she had me backed into a corner and the Fleetch started humming the tune for Deliverance. We got out of Dodge pretty quickly, let me tell you.

In any case, we ended up sitting on a sofa next to a lesbian couple. They were not, to put it politely, aesthetically suited to each other. I'd be the first to point out that physical looks only  get you so far in a relationship, so don't be hatin'. The problem is that my friends, particularly when under the influence of alcohol, have  a tendency to speak their minds directly. I rather like this about them. It's why we're friends.
Now, it's not that Tanyakit is particularly loud when drunk. When sharing a room, I have never been tempted to edge away to ease the auditory pressure, although I have several times noted that her voice seems to carry ridiculously well (the Fleetch and I once sat in our living room, a good ten feet or so from the firmly closed window - bear in mind we live on the first floor - and could clearly hear every word of her conversation with the takeaway guy from across the street). However on this occasion, the couple in question were about three feet away. I saw my friends eye them. I considered throwing myself over them in slow motion, but decided that it would't help. This was going to happen anyway, and it was better just to batten down the hatches and wait out the storm.

Tanyakit: Look at that! Mismatch of the CENTURY! Wow! Seriously!

Me: Dude-

Tanyakit: I'm not even kidding! Look at them!

The couple pretended, very nicely, not to hear.

Me: (pinching my nose) Oh sweet merciful-

Fleetch: (leaning over) Hey. Hey. Towncrier. Why don't you pipe down for a bit?

Tanyakit: What? I wasn't even being-

Fleetch: Oh, but you were. Ten o'clock and all is not well.

Tanyakit: I didn't-

Me: Now that you have delivered the news to the populace, go forth and tell the king!

Tanyakit: You guys are dicks.