Manville New Jersey is a disgusting rat hole of a town. The only real thing you need to know about it is that it used to be the asbestos capital of the world. That sums it up, if you spend an inordinate amount of time in Manville you will contract mesothelioma (whatever that is, I've seen a lot of day time lawyer commercials about it though) and die.
On a recent trip home to New Jersey I was essentially forced to spend time at a bar in Manville because a friend of a friend's friend's cover band was playing at a bar that could've doubled as a port-a-potty (in both size and smell! To be fair, the town always smells like shit, so it has that going for it). The bar was filled with mostly twenty somethings and a few obvious Manville residents - you could tell from their surly disposition, obvious eastern european heritage and overall "aged" look. Let's just say this, if I ever get to a point in life where I'm 55 years old and sitting alone at a bar oogling 23 year old's and smoking Marlboro Red's with the filters cut off, kill me. In fact, pull off my fingernails first just to see if I still feel any pain, because at that point I may just be a leather mannequin.
So on to the story, in the midst of the Manville garbage was a girl who was beyong stunningly beautiful (although beautiful might not be the right adjective, more like porn star hot, but classy porn star.) Whatever it was about her, I was just kind of in awe of her all evening. She had a killer body and a back tattoo that took up over 85% of her shoulder and she just carried herself in a way that oozed sex appeal (yeah, she definitely had the porn star/hooker vibe). Let's just call her Ashley Dupree and hope she didn't sleep with any governors.
Anyway, my dear friend Derril and his girlfriend dragged me out after a long day where I was already cranky and the 3 pound Arby's roast beef sandwich sitting in my stomach didn't help matters. Upon seeing her I immediately told Derril how hot I thought she was. His response, "We think she has HIV." I didn't know whether I should be more horrified in the fact that she has HIV or that Derril frequents this bar or group of people regularly enough to know intimate details of their lives. Either way, it was like Magic Johnson all over again.
I asked why and how he knew this and he claimed that he knew of someone who slept with her and he DEFINITELY had HIV, so the chances were likely that she had it, but that he hadn't told her yet. (Before you gasp about how awful this is, remember it's Manville, and there is a chance that the asbestos remnants have formed antibodies that fight off other diseases. Also, everyone in Manville might have HIV, that's a possibility too.).
While this conversation was going on, our mutal friend was busy hitting on her HARD, even though he also knew she possibly had the HIV. We watched her dance with him and another guy simultaneously for a few songs, then push our mutual friend away as she was whisked off into the corner with the other guy, leaving our friend in a state of "holy shit, what just happened here." (But not before he got one last beg in, where he sort of forced himself between the two and tried to keep it going, it was hilarious.)
While recovering from laughing, I stared at this girl make out with the other guy, in the creepiest way possible. Alone, across the bar and in a dark corner. But I couldn't help it, Ashley Dupree was hot and to top it off she was making out in slow motion, like she knew she was being filmed for a porn. Just ridiculously long mouth movements, she slowly would trace her lips with her tongue and then bite her lips. It was bizarre that anyone would make out in such an overthought way, I realize drunk people can get sloppy, but this was the opposite. Almost like she was madly in love with the guy about to get HIV. Half porno/half depressing Nicolas Sparks movie.
My attention was snapped back into place when some girl put her drink down on the table in front of me, forgot it was there, and the sat on the table, sending her drink flying into my lap. Then the bouncer came over and looked at me like a) I spilled the drink over the fine burlap sack couch or b) I just pissed my pants. It was not good times, until I remembered that I don't live in Manville, didn't get HIV (it's not airborne, right?) and that the cover band was on their second ground of Ke$ha's "Tik Tok."
Tomorrow Part 2: The Cover Band.
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