Time Travel
Written by Marsha Mellow 

Well, Well, Well I am back. Not quite sure how it happened but it would seem that with enough Grey Goose filthy slut dirty martinis and a diet of queen olives stuffed with bleu cheese (shaken by one sexy Nick Gray) time travel is possible. My entire month of October is nothing more than a flash of monsters, drinks, ghost, pushing down bartenders, cop and mob chases, drinks, ghouls and more drinks.

I swished out of the bar looking up into the night sky and singing “Don’t you wish that airplanes in the night sky were shooting bottles of vodka and other spirits”. The first sign of time travel was when I left 3RD Coast Beach Bar Downtown after a night of stalking, Nick and woke up in the Emily Morgan Hotel, in San Antonio Texas. This was a rather creepy experience to say the least because it is rumored to be haunted. At first I was not even sure of where I was, until I looked out my window and what did I see seven floors down but the freaking Alamo. I sucked it up and did what any diva would do I called my new assistant who is used to doing out of the ordinary requests for me. Jimmy became my assistant after I got him fired from his job at Applebee’s. Four hours later he showed up to rescue me with his old Apple buddies, Brie and Travis in tow. Jimmy not being as worldly as I thought he would be camping out with me in my suite. Not happening. I put the apples in the Motel 6 so they would be more comfortable. He came out of the bathroom carrying the plush Egyptian cotton towel and told everyone to stay away from it because it was going to be his for the entire weekend. He was even more taken in by the view. I explained to him that this was the very hotel that the Mexican army stayed in before they attacked the Alamo. Deep down I know that he believed me.

There are only three events that really stick out in my head from that weeken: One, that I willingly paid $30 for a shot of SOCO and lime and did it from a girl’s southern region at Coyote Ugly. Jimmy also did it with me -separate girl of course- at the same time. Of course we argued before the event took place because he wanted the prettier girl and I demanded that I get the prettier girl. He had a point that I should not care one way or the other because I am not into girls. Yelling I told him that was not the point and since he worked for me I should have the prettier girl because she was more astatically pleasing to the eye. He had nothing. Of course this, as many things in my life, turned ugly real fast after being slapped by astatically pleasing girl then hit with her cheap fake leather belt my eyes became the size of tires on a red necks 4x4 pickup truck. So it was total reaction when I pushed her off the bar. This did not go over well and we were all chased out of the bar and down the river walk by psychotic bald bouncer who was being followed up by pack of undersexed married guys. He ran out of steam half way down to Waxy’s Irish Pub where we all ducked inside for another quick round of shots.

All of that running had made us quite hungry so we stopped at one of the fifteen-hundred Mexican restaurants for some nachos, I do love nachos. This would be the second thing that stuck out in my mind; being accosted by the mariachi band that would not let me enjoy my nachos until we paid them to do a song. The whole place went up in a roar of claps and screams when I did my rendition of Queen’s, Another One Bites The Dust, set to the sounds from the second rate mariachi band. The manager was so impressed he bought us dinner and several rounds of top shelf margaritas. Of course there is no such thing as a free meal; I was forced to sing the following songs and several request which included, Reba’ s Fancy, Rihanna’s Umbrella, Phil Collin’s Against All Odds, Selena’s Biddi Biddi Bom Bom (when in Rome) B-52’s Love Shack, all set to the cool styling’s of the Los Caliente Mariachi Band. I pulled the plug when some jack-tard sent in a request for Christopher Cross’ Sailing. We bowed out and made our way down the River Walk.

The third incident: we foolishly believed that we had left all of the earlier mishaps from that night behind and stopped for a smoke under a desolate dark bridge, the only light was that from the end of our cigarettes that were glowing. We all froze when across the river Johnny Law was shining a high powered light on us. As usual I had to take control of the situation. I looked behind me and told the apple dumpling gang to follow my lead. In the bright light I gave a quick lesson on how to shimmy and exit the stage. We escaped the bright light and ran like Forrest Gump back to the Emily Morgan, stopping only to take a pic in front of the Alamo. The Texas Trooper was kind enough to snap the memory for us. Of course this took some coaxing and a twenty spot.

Back safe in the hotel we turned on the television to discover that the incident was taking the top spot on the San Antonio news, even beating out a book that had been hurled at the President. Lawyers work fast in that city! Some greasy lawyer already had the bartending harlot in a neck brace telling the reporters how she will be out of work and now her and her poor grandmother who survived some natural disaster will be on the streets, and threw in she will never dance again because the fall from the bar caused her to land on her knee. I don’t think it is dancing she won’t be doing anymore with that alleged knee injury. The media painted me in some dark evil light using horrible adjectives to describe me. Her fairy tale was way off- she lied saying that she had simply refused my sexual advances and that is when I threw her violently from the bar. Have to admit that it did kind of look that way from the video that some spectator had shot on his IPhone. I might as well have been made out to be the OJ for a new generation. We slipped out of the boutique hotel and made our way home in the middle of the night.

For the rest of the month I stayed close to home my only contact with the outside world was my assistant Jimmy. I had made plans on returning to public view on Halloween with all that time at home I had constructed a cocktail dress made entirely out of bologna. Needless to say I was forced to stay home because inept assistant had turned my creation into his lunch.

Turns out I was missed I got a phone call and flowers from 3rd Coast, bartender, Nick, telling me that he missed me lurking outside of his bushes and he felt a void with me gone. During the twenty-two minute conversation somehow he convinced me to hire him to become my personal trainer. This only lasted two sessions. The first session I had sent 130lb Jimmy to work out for me. The second session did not really work out as well because I was not paying attention to Nick and kept asking when we would be showering.

Also returned to performing later that night after my show around 3:33AM bored with the Sak’s 5th Avenue Christmas catalog I needed to be entertained. I called Jimmy awaking him from his peaceful slumber, demanding him to come over right away because I was craving What-A-Burger and had to have it. I sent him to the What-A-Burger on 61st street for my burger but insisted that he go to the What-A-Burger on 4th street because I like their fries and shakes better. Once he finally toured the island for my treats I was too tired to eat and sent him home. Does this make me a bad person?

March 2011
Because I Care

February 2011
Full of Hate

January 2011
The Christmas Show That Never Should Be Part2

December 2010
The Christmas Show That Never Should Be

November 2010
Time Travel

September 2010
The Past Is A Prison

August 2010
Summer Is Cooling Down

July 2010
Taking Care of Dad

June 2010
When Life Throws You Potatoes

May 2010
Food Is The Enemy Part2

April 2010
Food Is The Enemy

March 2010
Laws For Love Part2

February 2010
Laws For Love

January 2010
The Ghost of Resolutions Past