WHO DOES THIS?

The Home Depot Bucket Incident

There was this one time I was stranded at the casino and needed a ride back to my hotel.

I had met this older guy previously through my friend Robby, and I happened to run into him again. He offered me a ride, so naturally, I accepted.

When we got back to the hotel, I asked him if he wanted to come inside and get high for a minute.

He did.

I had some things I needed to get ready for, so eventually I started getting in the shower.

Now, I wasn't expecting this man to still be in my room when I got out.

In fact, I was pretty sure I'd heard the hotel room door close.

So I took my shower.

I got out.

And because I apparently had no survival instincts whatsoever at that point in my life, I didn't even grab a towel.

I opened the bathroom door completely naked and soaking wet.

And nearly pissed myself.

Because sitting on my bed, behind what could only be described as a thick-ass cloud of smoke, was this MUCH older man...

...wearing fishnet stockings and high heels.

Me, just standing there...like what in the actual fuck?

I just stood there.

Processing.

Behind him was an orange Home Depot bucket sitting on the floor.

And I didn't exactly have time to conduct a complete inventory, but I am almost certain I saw a very large dildo in that damn bucket.

At this point, my brain had officially left the building.

I yelled:

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING IN HERE?!”

Then, because apparently I needed to make the situation even more surreal, I asked:

“ARE THOSE MY FISHNETS?!”

I don't remember what the hell he said.

Honestly, I don't think my brain was accepting new information anymore.

I heard the door click shut.

I waited.

And waited.

Because at that point I wasn't about to walk out of that bathroom until I was absolutely certain the coast was clear.

Eventually, I left the bathroom and went over to the window.

And there he was.

Walking back toward his car.

Home Depot bucket in tow.

And I swear to God, from the back he looked like the Fool on the Tarot card.

Just wandering off into the unknown with his little orange bucket of mysteries.

And all I could think was...

What. The. Fuck. Just happened?

So, just let me be 100% Crystal fucking clear.

I don't - DO NOT - give a single shit what somebody is into.

Wear the fishnets. Wear

the heels. Bring the bucket. Live your truth.

But, sir...

We barely knew each other.

You picked me up from the casino.

You came to my hotel room to get high.

I took a shower.

And somehow, during those fifteen minutes, you transformed my hotel room into your personal episode of What the Fuck Is Happening Here?

Also...

Here's where it gets good.

and this one is going to piss a lot of you guys off.

But oh well.

Here Goes

.........

You Sir, are MARRIED

YOU SIR...WERE MARRIED!

That part really stuck with me.

Not because of the fishnets. aS TRAUMATIZED as I was.

Not because of the heels.

Not even because of the suspicious Home Depot bucket.

The only thing I kept thinking:

WHO THE FUCK DOES THIS?!

Answer that for me somebody please?

Like, make this make sense.

Who meets somebody they barely know, gets high in their hotel room, waits until they're in the shower, puts on fishnets and high heels, climbs onto their bed, and starts smoking like this is a perfectly normal Tuesday?

Apparently...

That guy.

And

that was my Tuesday.