Don't FUCK with dmbmeg and lie about it in another blog post

The following post was in regard to a guy who felt the need to stalk my friend and I during the great Awesomefest. My anger may seem unwarranted at first, but keep reading. I know it's long, but I needed to address this. My reputation was at stake (and also the fact I felt dirty after reading this post). Sometimes douchebags require drastic measures to get the point across. You hear that fucker? You know who you are.

As a note: I am "certain person". Megan is "certain blogger." My comments to his post are in blue, his are in italics.

This post was originally written and posted Monday night. However, this morning I received an email from a certain person requesting a picture and link be removed and expressing surprise at some of the content. Said items have been redacted and replaced with italics. Otherwise, the story you are about to see is true; the names have been changed to protect the innocent paranoid.

And then there was Saturday. Saturday was where Blog Life met Real Life. After my roommate had some a coworker and her husband over for a dinner party (he also had an old ex-girlfriend in town for the weekend), I was itching to go out.

As you may be aware, this week was an event, where a certain person came to Chicago to hang with a certain blogger. A certain blogger extended an invitation (OK, yes, I was totally fishing for it) to a few of their planned drinking excursions.

Yeah no shit you invited yourself. We knew what you were up to days before you actually asked Megan to meet us out. We were just waiting for the inevitable email asking her if you can meet us out. You even used the Awesomefest's name in vain. First rule of Awesomefest? No one is allowed to mention the word Awesomefest with the expressed written approval of the owners of Awesomefest.

So after my roommate played pussy and didn't wanna go out (he wanted to stay in and fuck his ex - which is fortunate since he doesn't know about this blog and explaining how I knew everyone would be awkward) uhhhhh....., I headed out to the place they were at celebrating a certain blogger's roomate's birthday. I walked in, bought a Tanqueray and tonic and headed to the back where the party was. I spotted a certain person first, but a certain blogger had her back to me so I had to kind of walk to the side.

Me: "A certain blogger?"
A certain blogger: "Mark!"
A certain person: "Who?"
A certain blogger: "Mortar!"
A certain person: "Hey!"
Me: "[redacted blogger] told me to give you a nipple pinch."
A certain person: [picture of shock]
First off, asshat, we didn't think you would actually show up to a bar where you weren't invited and knew no one. Second, what makes you think just because I write a blog where I drop the f-bomb you can introduce yourself to me like that? Seriously, who do you think you are?

So yeah, thus began good times uhhh...... Seconds later a certain blogger is shoving a shot in my hand of some girly thing she claimed was whiskey but was clearly candy. OK fucktard, she didn't order you a shot. You were sitting at the table with us, and since Megan is a nicer girl than I'll ever be, she lumped you into the group. I don't know how you turned, "I'd like 6 Soco and Lime shots (I was there. She never once called it whiskey. That shit was strong too. If I wasn't too busy wishing you would go away, I would have seen you grimace at the amount of Southern Comfort in the shot--like us all) to "OMG LET ME BUY YOU A SHOT! LET ME LICK YOUR FACE!"

I bought her and a certain person a few drinks too. She ordered some absurd raspberry stoli and sprite, while a certain person went for a martini (WRONG AGAIN ASSFACE. You just bought me the drink because I made mention of it once in a comment section. Do you take notes on this blog? I'm Quietly Judging You 101?) As they didn't have Grey Goose, I got her my favorite martini: dirty Ketel One. And like anyone with a good taste for booze, she loved it. I think I just threw up in my mouth.

While we're all gettin our drizink on I'm meeting her friends as well, taking pictures, etc. Oh yeah, if you call using your cell phone to take pictures of my friends and I while we aren't looking fun, then sure! Every time I turned around, that fucking camera was in either Megan, Dianka, or my face. Can you please stop telling Katie you think she is pretty cause she is now the only one nice enough to talk to you at this point? Who the fuck were you sending those pictures too anyways? imamotherfuckingdouchebag@gmail.com? Oh wait, no, you already own that email address.

At some point some cute chick starts grabbing my junk with tongs. Yes, tongs. There was a buffet sort of thing near the table and she had purloined serving tongs and was now trying to clamp my manhood. I imgaine [sic] it was like what a handjob from the Tin Man would be like. If you were actually not a fucktwat, you would have seen she was making fun of you. She wasn't grabbing your "manhood" as you call it (gag), but rather standing behind you mouthing to me, "Who the fuck is this guy?"

So being the gentleman (cough cough....) that I am, I reciprocated by stealing the tongs and copping a feel or two of my own (here comes vomit #2!). Anyway, tongs girl said she had read my blog. "Mortarbored!" she shouted repeatedly. "You blog about sex!" Um, well, yes, but only a few times (She was placating you. Not like I would know since I don't even read your blog). But hey if you wanna give me more material... The tong job was followed by her grinding and "dancing" next to me ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT? WHAT IS IT ABOUT SHE WAS MAKING FUN OF YOU FOR BEING AN ASSCLOWN DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND. In reality she was just humping me while I sat on my stool and sipped my martini. Hot. Well, tong girl, you know how to reach me. [FIRE SHOOTS OUT OF DMBMEG'S EARS.] This is completely fabricated, and you know it. If you interpret what she was doing as humping, you must have thought all the female patrons in the bar were ready to dry hump your leg at a moment's notice. What with you being all suave drinking your fancy Ketel One martini out of a tumbler in a bar with red Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling. [Rico Suave begins to play in the background.]

At some point - not sure when, I'm full blown drunk by this time - a certain person and a certain blogger have to head out. Oh the good old, "I'm sooooo tired. Look! It's 2am! Past my bedtime! What? No I didn't write about staying out til 5am the other week on my blog. I have no idea what you are talking about, silly man! Now! Off to beddy bye!"

Again, being the gentleman (and stalker CASE CLOSED!) that I am, I stole a certain blogger's cell number by calling my cell on her phone earlier. So yeah, a certain blogger, no I really can't explain that text message after you left. I have no clue what "WTF happend to my gig!" means (so many jokes....must....not....ridicule....). After they left, though, I stuck around and closed out the place with her remaining friends read: you tried to massage my shoulders and invite yourself along with us. Rule #1 - don't try and touch a girl who flinches when you get within a foot of her. I was heading to some other place with people and they were in a rush, so I couldn't wait to find out what tongs girl was doing. I was sprinting to catch up with the people I'll give you a cookie if you can guess why you think we were rushing out of the bar. Motherfucking Speedy Gonzalez had nothing on us if it meant we had to spend more hours with your creepy ass. I was with as tongs girl shouted out in the street, "Mortarbored!" Damn, my plan to hook up with tongs girl was thwarted by my own drunkenness. Honey, it wasn't your drunkenness that was cockblocking you. Especially considering the next place we went to was retarded and I lost the group I was with after going to the bathroom, left, and just caught a cab home. Um, not quite.

OK let me take over from here since that last sentence did not do the remaining part of the evening justice. The fucker jumps in a cab with us after we are clearly trying to ignore him. We're giving him terse answers to the obnoxious comments we are making, but he doesn't seem to fucking get it. I'm still too nice to say, "get the fuck away from me asshole," However, my patience is waining. This guy is getting more and more insulting by the minute. We hail a cab, and immediately I yell shotgun as to not sit by this guy. I'm scared what even sitting next to him will do to me. I might possibly be infected with his douchebaggyness. Like I mentioned before, he was kind of touchy feely towards me, so I figured the plastic barrier of the cab would be enough of a barrier from him jumping through the front seat and swallowing me whole.

Not so.

He put his fucking face through the partition, and proceeded to yell shit at me, and the cab driver. My friends would occasionally say something to him to calm him down, but he wasn't having it. Finally, the fucking CAB DRIVER had to tell him to, "Leave the lady alone." A FUCKING CAB DRIVER. Isn't one of the requirements of being a cabby is to have a BA in sexual harassment? That tells you how belligerent and obnoxious this guys was.

So then we arrive at the bar. I politely thank the cab driver for trying to stop the shit show, and walk in line. There is a $5 cover, and when Douchey McDoucheypants realized he had no more money, he asked to borrow $5 from my friends and I. Suddenly we all look in our wallets and proclaim, "Oh gosh darnit, this is my last $5! Oh, I think I saw an ATM in Indiana!. Tell you what, you start walking, and we'll save you a seat."

Then the fucker starts yelling at us. That's right, he comes uninvited, and then yells at my friends and I for not loaning him money to be graced with his company. Finally, he stomps off and we see him walking off towards...oh who the fuck am I kidding? Soon as he turned on his heels we made a mad dash inside. My friend Katie plops at a table, I put my bag down to go to the bathroom, and Dave is off to get us beers. I walk out of the bathroom, and my body turns cold. There is Assface Assfaceyson standing there attempting to talk to Katie, who coincidentally is turned facing the wall. I'm not kidding. Katie would rather face the wall than talk to this guy.

I head off Dave at the bar, "DUDE. Heeee's here!" [said in my best Poltergeist impersonation.]

He turns around slowly, throws his arms in the air and in his best James T. Kirk impersonation, yells "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" [like "Kaaahhhnnnnnnnnn!"]

OK so maybe I exaggerated that. I think his exact words were, "What the fuck is wrong with this guy?"

We take a deep breath and go and try to save Katie. There is a creepy old man sitting next to Katie (no, not making love to his tonic and gin), who comes up to me and says, "I like your dress, but who is that guy? He is bothering her." I thank him and agree.

We attempt to maneuver through the back of the bar, hoping that through the maze of high top tables this guy will trip over a bar stool, knock his head on the corner, and be rendered unconscious for the remainder of the evening. No such luck.

We sit down at another table, this time the music is blaring so we don't have to talk. Katie, Dave and I are all just sitting there looking at each other with widened eyes. Finally, he gets up and goes to the bathroom, and we take that as our cue to hit the dance floor. So I'm shaking my groove thing, and suddenly out of the corner of my eye I see him. He is making a bee line towards me. Suddenly he is up against me, grinding his manhood into my side. This is my final straw. I tell him to back off, and he doesn't. He grabs at my waist in a semi-aggressive manner. I ask him again. He doesn't move. I then pushed him away from me, pointed my finger at him and said, "Seriously, dude (yes I really do talk like that) You need to back the fuck away from me." Apparently this guy has the social intelligence of a 7 month old golden retriever cause he thinks this is a game. He comes towards me again, and I try and push him. Dave then intervenes, and kindly walks him back to our table and asks him again to leave me alone, and back the fuck away.

Luckily, he seems to take to guy who is 6'2" rather than my 5'6 ass (ha, I am 5'6--you know I'm talking to you). He then proceeds to take the next 15 minutes to lie on the table with his head in his arms while the guys at the surrounding tables point and laugh.

Suddenly, I look up and he is gone. We take this as our chance to leave, so the 3 of us bust out of there. Who knows if this guy was going to invite himself back to Megan's apartment with us. Katie goes home, and Dave is staying at Megan's apartment for the night. When we get home, Megan sees that there is a phone call or a text message from this guy saying, "WTF happened to my gig?" He may not know what it means, but I guarantee he texted Megan after realizing he was alone in the bar, and how could his new BFF's leave him like that?

So cut to Tuesday morning, and I see motherfucker wrote a post about me which included a picture of me and a complete and utter delusional perspective of what actually happened. If this guy 1) wasn't rude and obnoxious towards my friends, 2) Almost ruined my evening, and Megan's evening so much she left the bar early on her roommate's birthday 3) grabbed me in a way I felt threatened 4) kept grabbing me in a way that I felt threatened 4) took pictures of my friends and I with his camera phone when we weren't looking, and 5) create a blog post in which it makes it seem I actually enjoyed your company, I wouldn't be so mean. I also would not have blogged about this, but you seem insistent on keeping this post up about Megan and I like you are suddenly cool for hanging out with us.

Let me tell you dude, we've been hanging around our friends for years, and they still aren't cool. That means there is absolutely zero hope for you. Think about this next time you make a girl feel as uncomfortable as you made me on Sunday night, and again with your blog post. Oh yeah, and thanks for almost ruining Awesomefest.