A Tale of Two Ambers

It was the best of Amber. It was the worst of Amber.

Now I’m going to stop here and mention that Moles is shaking in her boots. She made the mistake of telling her coworkers to read “the blogs.” So this story has escalated from a story that could embarrass her in front of her friends and acquaintances (whom she sees from time to time) to one that could embarrass her in front of her coworkers (whom she sees every weekday). Now let’s start the story over from the beginning.


Amber says the owl is on her shirt because she is wise. I say it's because she says "Who" alot.

I’ve invited Moles to Pazzo’s on many a Wednesday, but this is the 1st time she had shown any interest at all in going. I went down there around 4:45pm to secure a table. Moles did not get off work until 5 o’clock and had some difficulty navigating the construction on Martin Luther King, so it was almost 5:30 before she showed up. I had ordered a drink (to the tune of a double Maker’s and diet), but was patiently waiting on her before ordering food. She sat down and ordered a Miller Lite while she perused the menu. I expected to hang out with Moles and have a couple of drinks, but SHE wanted to drink. So we sat back with our cool, refreshing beverages and talked of many things.

I will not go into details about everything we talked about because some of the conversation could be considered inappropriate (don’t trust Moles with any State secrets cause she gets chatty when she’s drinking). One interesting topic we talked about was breasts and bras. There was another Amber at the bar who was wearing an outfit that showed off her assets. She was hard to miss because as Moles put it she was squealing and as she got drunk she became louder. One of Moles’ first comments in regards to Amber was those must be real, the way they droop like that. Granted, I did ask the loaded question of whether or not they were real. Amber’s open blouse policy also led to a discussion of bras. There was a disagreement between Moles and I on how bras are sized. So naturally we had to bring in an impartial party to settle the dispute. Moles called her mother. They had a quick conversation in which I was called a bastard only a couple of times. She put the phone away and said okay you were right. Ahh, drunken validation. At this point, Amber was getting really loud and she started sticking her finger in people’s drinks. I was really perplexed by this since her friends were drinking pitchers of beer, so everybody’s drink should have been the same. She also stood up and yelled loud enough for all to hear that she had to go pee pee. I’m not sure if Amber was crazy, but I know that she had to get two people to help her out of the bar.


How can I explain to her how a bra works?

I have to tell you one other quick story in order for you to glean a little insight into our friend Moles. I was drinking Maker’s, while Moles opted for beer. As anyone knows, beer is water that tastes bad so if you drink a pitcher of it you may have to relieve yourself. Pazzo’s was so crowded that the table next to our booth had two chairs in the path that lead to the booth. Moles looked up at me at one point and asked what she should do if she had to pee. I tapped the guys on the shoulder and asked them to let her out. Not a big deal. An hour later, she asks me if the guys will be really mad at her for making them get up again. I told her she had to ask them herself this time. She was so nervous, but she finally worked up the courage to ask them to move. You would think she was asking for their wallets the way she was worried about these guys. By this point, Moles had talked to JC and I had talked to some friends from school, so we asked for the check. Moles’ share was a lot less than mine which was to be expected. Before we left, we got the waitress to take a quick picture of us. And that’s how Pazzo’s went Wednesday night.


Amber is ready to head home, while I'm off to Marrikka's.

You didn’t have anything to worry about after all. Just like I promised I did not say a word about you liking to have your hair pulled or your proclivity towards bondage and S&M. What are friends for?