Monday, January 28, 2008

Defeating assholery, one sexist turd at a time

Readers, sometimes a woman's gotta fight for her space.

This past Saturday, a friend of mine, a gay, built, black and fierce man that I affectionately call "Foxy Brown", invited me to a "Suds 'n' Speakeasy" party in Hollywood. Foxy and I bonded some years ago at work. He's no longer employed at my firm, but remains one of my closest friends in LA. I hadn't seen him in a while, and his parties are a guaranteed good time, so I was looking forward to my night out.

I invited my friend Liz along, because the poor girl has been overworked for the past few weeks. I knew we'd have a great time socializing with Foxy and his boys, playing beer pong at his place before walking down the street to Club 86, the latest Hollywood hot spot.

The night didn't progress exactly as planned. It has been absolutely pouring in LA for a week, and the rain was torrential on Saturday night. Streets were flooding, LA is just not used to that kind of weather, and Hollywood was a hot mess. It took Liz and I way longer to find parking than usual, simply because we had to park as close to the party as we could (we were going to have to walk in that pouring rain, after all!). We were late arrivals as it was, and we drove in circles for so long that we missed out on Foxy's home party. I gave him a call to let him know that we'd meet him and his peeps at the club.

Looking like a pair of drowned rats, Liz and I got a couple of drinks and walked around 86 for a bit. Randomly, she bumped into somebody that she used to work with, and we all chatted for a while. Foxy and his crew showed up about half an hour later, and we all wound up on the dance floor, laughing and having a great time.

The night took a bad turn about half an hour later. There was a small group celebrating a birthday party, and most of them were on the dance floor with us. Birthday Boy was a very large specimen, around 6'5", and very, very toasted. He kept bumping into people and basically acting like an SUV driver - you know, "I'm bigger, get out of my way." That attitude. I'd already had words with BB, because he'd bumped into me so hard that half my drink wound up on the floor. He had also pulled Liz's hair. When I called him out, he leaned down and drunkenly sneered, "Ohhhhh, I apologize. It's my birthday!" The guy skeeved me out. Earlier in the evening, Liz, who has "the hearing of a dolphin" (as she puts it), told me that she'd heard him talking to a random group of guys that were standing by the bar about ten feet from where she and I were dancing. "Go over to them!" he yelled at these guys, indicating us. "Those girls want you!"

Uh, no, we didn't. Nice try.

We tried to ignore BB, we really did, but he made it impossible. After bumping against a few members of my party, he came up behind Liz and slapped her on the ass with a loud WHAP. Now, Liz is a very easygoing girl. It takes a lot to shock her, and believe me, she was shocked. She was also in pain, because this man was the size of a large gorilla. Stunned silent, she just tried to get away from him.

I was furious. "Did you just slap her ass?!" I yelled at BB.

"You're damn right I did," he laughed at me.

"You FUCKER!" Right in the middle of the dance floor, I put both hands on his chest and shoved as hard as I could, knocking his drunk ass back into one of his boys. "YOU DO NOT TOUCH HER."

BB FUCKER put his hands up in shock, as if to say 'Did this little girl actually just push me?!'. "Oh, ohhhhh, I apologize, I apologize, it's my birthday! What's your problem?"

"My problem? My problem, asshole, is you putting your hands on my friend. You don't put your hands on someone. You keep your fucking hands to yourself, loser." My lightly buzzed self made the "L" sign with my right hand.

Now BBF's buddy got involved. "What's your problem?" he demanded. "You have the wrong attitude. You need to relax."

No he didn't! "You socially stunted moron." I spat. "He does not have the right to touch her, or anyone, and I don't give a flying fuck if it's his birthday, or if he's drunk. Do you see other drunk people acting like assholes?"

"I apologized!" BB yelled.

"ONLY BECAUSE I CALLED YOU OUT," I yelled back. It was getting ugly. People on the dance floor were starting to step back.

"YOU HAVE THE WRONG ATTITUDE," Mr. Asshole Enabler started to yell. By this point, Foxy and his friend Eric had noticed what was going on, and the sight of the escalating skirmish - most notably the sight of two large men leaning down and yelling at a certain pissed-off redhead - sprung them into action. The next thing I knew, my boys were squaring off with Slapper and Enabler. I heard a lot of "No, no, NO, dude, back off," and when I explained what was going on, Foxy in particular got even more pissed. There was some pushing. The Asshole Duo had finally realized that Liz and I weren't alone, and now they were going to have to deal with our whole crew, so they were starting to back it up. It's sad, isn't it, that these idiots would only back off when they realized that Liz and I had guys with us that were willing to throw down? I mean, can't a woman have a good time without getting hit on the ass by some random stranger?

It got worse. While my boys were correcting these degenerates, one of Slapper's female friends came over to defend him. Readers, the only thing I hate more than a man who defends disrespecful behavior towards women is a woman who defends disrespectful behavior towards women. This little blonde started in on me, asking me to "forgive" the jerk because he was "just drunk and having fun."

BITCH, PLEASE.

"This is fun for you?" I demanded. "You think that was fun for my girl over there?"

"Oh, he didn't mean anything -"

"So, if you're in a club one night, and you get slapped on the ass by a stranger, that would be okay?"

Stunned silence. Then, "Is that what he did?"

"No, I'm making it up for fun."

She looked back at Slapper, who was slowly backing away from the human wall of Eric and Mr. Brown. "Well," she said, "he's going to be scolded for this tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes. "Girl, I don't give a shit. He'd better step off right fucking now."

I went back to Liz. "If I become a stripper," she joked, "will you be my bodyguard?"

"Woman, you need a bodyguard already!"

That was the end of that. Their crew gave my crew a wide berth until we all left. I have to say, despite the night's assholery, Foxy Brown and Eric restored my faith in men a little bit. They told those guys to back off right away, no explanation necessary. They saw disrespect and corrected it. Hos before bros! How refreshing.

"Damn," Liz said as we settled into my car for the drive home, "this is probably my frumpiest dress, too."

"The dude was a waste of space," I replied. "You know we never meet decent guys in clubs."

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6 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

The Hollywood "clubs" are full of douche bags and whores, its just a fact and that was one big douche bag. They were slicksters who are used to getting away with awful things everyday of their lives. Their looks and money have a magical power to allow them to do evil shit to women who have an evilly low level of self respect. These are the women who think, "Vogue, People, and TMZ all have the answers." The money and the women that have granted these douche bags moral passes since puberty, combine to create a sense of entitlement. These guys get away with it. Whatever "it" is.
The best part is after the club they will laugh about it and have a conversation thats about as deep and closely modeled on the Family Guy digressions. They got away with it. They laugh at someone yelling at them, they apologize with a false face with all the sencerity of a Cheney family charitable donation. You have to know they did it again that night and several times since that night. That's how they operate.
Old school violence would have taught them a lesson, at least that they wouldn't have gotten away with it that night. Without the threat of of an ass whooping these guys will never get it. I'm sure a beating wouldn't change them, but at least they know there was that one time when they got checked. Then of course they would get their daddies law firm to sue us. Norman Mailer would have called them pussies.

8:29 PM  
Blogger Ginger said...

I think "pussy" is too good a word for that guy. The vagina is a very impressive body part, after all...

10:05 AM  
Blogger Bradley said...

What an absolutely horrible thing to have happen. But I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that the story had a happy ending-- not only that your guy friends stuck up for you both, but that you put those drunken losers in their place too. Yeah, they probably talked a lot of shit around each other later, but each of them knows exactly what happened, and who exactly got their asses handed to them.

2:09 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Way to go Ginger! Here in Colorado, we would've followed that with a nasty stomp on the left instep followed by a knee to the groin.......but we are still in the Neanderthal stage around here and can get away with it. Of course, it shouldn't be necessary ANYWHERE in this day and age.....but he did throw the first "punch"......right?

6:48 PM  
Blogger Snark Scribe said...

Way to go Ginger! I'm not sure I would have had the guts to outyell the gorilla.

11:13 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Gawd.

"It's my burfday! Hic."

Thank you for taking that guy down.

6:47 PM  

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