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Tuna Helpers Valentine Extravaganza
Saturday 2.14.04
God Bless the Tuna Helpers. Four anniversary shows later and
they are still convinced that even losers like me deserve
to hook up on Valentine’s Day. Entering Room 710 that
night was like revisiting senior prom. Red hearts, streamers,
balloons, Valentine cards, and numbered envelopes ordained
the walls. Obviously a surplus of appetizing, young love was
for sale like cheap, dollar store cookies.
The Tuna Helpers were playing when I walked in, and before
I knew it Rae slapped a number on my chest. “Time to
play,” she said as she gave me some blank cards and
a pen. She must be joking. I was not putting kiddy Valentines
into some stranger’s envelope, or so I thought. I wore
number 260 like the Scarlet Letter, ashamed and mindful of
multiple strangers winking at me as they pointed to their
own sad numbers. Desperation clouded the club that night like
a stale fart.
Make-out contests ensued. Lovely ladies penetrated every orifice
of the club. Tits with heart-shaped pasties decorated the
stage all night long. Damn, those ladies were fine. Music?
I guess some were out to hear music, but most were there in
the hopes of getting laid. Hopefully some of them did. Oh
yeah, Summer Breeze headlined the show. That was the only
reason I came out, and it’s the last thing I can think
to report on.
Cheers to the chick that hula-hooped her way to nakedness.
If you missed it, that will teach you to stay home on Valentine’s
Day. To my surprise by 2 a.m. I did have a couple of Valentines
in my envelope. But I have to discount the one from Chad since
he probably gave them out like candy that night. Ladies, never
take candy from strangers.
–Marianna
M.
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