Late Monday evening, my friend, Geena (two e's added, in place of an "i," to protect her identity) called me up, said she had a really bad day, and asked if I wanted to get "totally loaded" with her.  I reminded G"ee"na that I couldn't drink with her, cuz of all my seizure meds (not to mention seizures), but kindly offered to watch.  She took me up on my offer, and came strolling over with a twelve-pack of some generic stuff that I wouldn't feed to my grandpa (for some reason "Budweiser" keeps coming to mind).  We talked and watched television, as she slammed down one beer after another.  She started getting giggly around the third, making me a bit giddy, myself.  After the sixth or seventh, she started stumbling, and slurring her speech, and I started getting an erection, just like the beer ads told me to.  Yet, it wasn't a hot babe, in a skimpy bikini, that the liquor turned G"ee"na into . . . it was a big weirdo, in a skirt, and only slightly revealing sweater.  When I turned the channel, from some cartoon, to "Politically Incorrect," G"ee"na jumped up, and declared, in all seriousness, "Stop!  Didn't you know I'm a rubber?"  This is when I knew that I was in for a straaaaaaaange evening.  An evening that could only be appreciated by readers of The Juicy Cerebellum.  So, it's time to share all the

Really Nutty Stuff My
ScHiZophRenIC
Friend Said, When She Was
DRUNK
Written by:  Slightly Psychotic Alex

As mentioned above, the weird stuff started with G"ee"na declaring that she's a rubber (which was a recurring theme, throughout the rest of the night).  After this unexpected revelation, she went on to tell me that she "doesn't want to get undressed in front of (my) parents."  I then told her that my parents weren't around, and she   said back, "that's just another reason for me to get undressed."  I wondered if I should take advantage of this situation, then I noticed the crucifix hanging on my wall, and got all scared.  "What do you mean?"  I asked, secretly hoping people would start getting naked.  G"ee"na said, "all you want is for me to get undressed in front of your parents.  That's all you've been asking me to do, for the past three days . . . now I need to go talk to Minnie."   "Who's Minnie?" I asked, slightly befuddled.  "Don't be a fucking idiot!"  She screamed.  "Really," I responded, "I don't know who Minnie is."  "Quit it!  Quit it!  Quit it!   Don't mock me!"  She yelled back.  "Really, G"ee"na, the only 'Minnie' I know is Minnie Mouse, and to a lesser extent, Pearl."   G"ee"na went silent for a moment, to begin building up steam for her totally mental, and utterly pointless answer.  "The bear on the 'Icee' glass, you idiot!"  "Uh . . ." I returned, somehow managing to feel inferior to a flaming psychotic, "I always thought that bear was male, and for all I know, nameless."  "Damnit, Alex - you know I'm a rubber!"  Was all G"ee"na said back in return.  After about 45 minutes of me begging crazy G"ee"na to tell me what she meant when she said she was a rubber, and her telling me that I already knew, she finally spilled the beans.  She told me that she's simply "a rubber bottle.  I'm rubber so I can be recycled," she said, "so you don't have to touch me.  That's all you want - not to touch me."  "Quite the contrary," I thought to myself, then I remembered the Crucifix.  After telling G"ee"na that I really don't want to recycle her, she told me to leave her alone, and she instantly fell asleep.  Later on, she got up and puked all over my floor, but that's a whole different story, altogether. 
Thee end.

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