In a drunken collaboration we've developed a sure fire way for us to go to hell.Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Hmmmm
I am the Jesus for the crazies. They flock to me.
(excuse my blasphemy, but it's true)
I had myself a date tonight. He seemed like a nice guy but of course, whenever meeting e-men, I always have a back up plan in place to avoid being the next newscasters dream story. We met in a public place, took my car (so I could ram it into a cement wall and kill us both if he tried anything fishy) and headed off to Thai food.
I'll just brush over some topics of conversation...
1: Defending his being molested by his babysitter when he was 4 as one of the most compassionate and rewarding experiences of his life.
2: His fear of becoming a teacher due to his doubt on whether or not he could refrain from being inappropriate with students.
3: His attack on ME because people who are so vehemently against the topics in 1 and 2 likely have the desire to partake in such activities
and last, his questioning on how "I" might feel about having sex with him, and animals, simultaneously.
I was saved by the arrival of the Thai restaurant. During dinner the conversation unfortunately continued and I almost punched him in the face when he mocked my dad's suicide. Finally, we finished dinner, I regained my composure, and initiated my escape plan. Tonight it was my wonderful gay husband, J. He was scheduled to show up at my house at 9:30 pm. I knew that my date wasn't familiar with the area and since I lived in a twisty-turny neighborhood and knew that he wouldn't remember where I lived. We drove back to my place and arrived at 9:01. I had 29 minutes to stall because there was no way I was actually going to spend any reasonable amount of time with this man inside my house and away from ears that might hear my screams.
Somehow, after all we'd been through, my date thought he still had a chance. The minute I stopped, he proceeded to lean over and yank my foot from the floor board of the car to observe my tattoo...I sat there, awkwardly as he stroked my foot and admired the art work, slowly running his fingers between my toes and simultaneously bringing my dinner back up.
I held my cool, retrieved my foot, and jumped out of the car and risked my chances in the house. In an attempt to send a very strong hint, I vacuumed (for the full 25 minutes) while he sat awkwardly on the couch. Seeing as I only have vacuum in one room of my apartment I figured the message was going through loud and clear. Then, right on time, Jason rang the door bell and I was free!
Everything went according to plan, I apologized to my date, and informed him it was time to go. Somehow, even after all this, I had to peel him off me when he attempted to stick his slimy tongue into my mouth before exiting my vehicle.
I'm starting to think I may be the common denominator in my dating and that I'm lucky to not have been chopped into bits and put in tupperware.
(excuse my blasphemy, but it's true)
I had myself a date tonight. He seemed like a nice guy but of course, whenever meeting e-men, I always have a back up plan in place to avoid being the next newscasters dream story. We met in a public place, took my car (so I could ram it into a cement wall and kill us both if he tried anything fishy) and headed off to Thai food.
I'll just brush over some topics of conversation...
1: Defending his being molested by his babysitter when he was 4 as one of the most compassionate and rewarding experiences of his life.
2: His fear of becoming a teacher due to his doubt on whether or not he could refrain from being inappropriate with students.
3: His attack on ME because people who are so vehemently against the topics in 1 and 2 likely have the desire to partake in such activities
and last, his questioning on how "I" might feel about having sex with him, and animals, simultaneously.
I was saved by the arrival of the Thai restaurant. During dinner the conversation unfortunately continued and I almost punched him in the face when he mocked my dad's suicide. Finally, we finished dinner, I regained my composure, and initiated my escape plan. Tonight it was my wonderful gay husband, J. He was scheduled to show up at my house at 9:30 pm. I knew that my date wasn't familiar with the area and since I lived in a twisty-turny neighborhood and knew that he wouldn't remember where I lived. We drove back to my place and arrived at 9:01. I had 29 minutes to stall because there was no way I was actually going to spend any reasonable amount of time with this man inside my house and away from ears that might hear my screams.
Somehow, after all we'd been through, my date thought he still had a chance. The minute I stopped, he proceeded to lean over and yank my foot from the floor board of the car to observe my tattoo...I sat there, awkwardly as he stroked my foot and admired the art work, slowly running his fingers between my toes and simultaneously bringing my dinner back up.
I held my cool, retrieved my foot, and jumped out of the car and risked my chances in the house. In an attempt to send a very strong hint, I vacuumed (for the full 25 minutes) while he sat awkwardly on the couch. Seeing as I only have vacuum in one room of my apartment I figured the message was going through loud and clear. Then, right on time, Jason rang the door bell and I was free!
Everything went according to plan, I apologized to my date, and informed him it was time to go. Somehow, even after all this, I had to peel him off me when he attempted to stick his slimy tongue into my mouth before exiting my vehicle.
I'm starting to think I may be the common denominator in my dating and that I'm lucky to not have been chopped into bits and put in tupperware.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
McCreepy
Lately I've been working to pay off some bills, leaving me with very little surplus. Since this month has been a bit slow, very little surplus means dinner is a cold can of ravioli.
Roommate broke the microwave. :(
Anyway, as I was spooning cold imitation tomato sauce into my mouth my phone rang. It was the fox driving old guy from last month inviting me to dinner.
Ummm...what happened to giving a girl some notice?
Then I realized...Ummm...Bitch, You ARE eating COLD, GENERIC BRAND, MEAT POCKETS for dinner.
I agreed to dinner, scrambled for my "date dress" and met him at one of the finest restaurants in town.
From what I remembered he was handsome enough to justify at least one dinner. But then again I had never seen him in his Hawaiian shirt, khaki short, sock-less loafer wearing glory.
WTF was I thinking!!!!!!!!!!
The worst part being he looked like my grandpa. Meaning he looked like the kind of grandpa who's hand gravitates to the fine line between a young girls back and ass. Nothing kills a date like fearing you may seem to be part of a strange Incestuous love triangle.
It got worse when I was I.D'd at the door, and the hostess gave me a look of doom. Especially since I didn't HAVE my I.D and was left standing there while he went back to the car.
Once we DID make it inside, let me share with you what I received in exchange for partaking in a delicious $200.00 meal:
ONE: Glimpses of text messages coming from the hostess to my...date...asking him if he'd told me "the truth"
TWO: His Italian lessons, teaching me how to say "whore" and "slut" because that's what all these other girls were
THREE: Stories about what MADE these other girls "whores"
At one point, when he took a breath and learned that my hobby included writing, he then taught me a few things about books.
ONE: He was contemplating writing a book on relationships, because there just aren't any relationship books out there
TWO: Now that he's thought about it, he WAS going to write a book about relationships because there aren't any relationship books out there
THREE: He was going to call it "All men want is good pussy and all women need is a good dick"
I have never yearned for cold meat product more in my life.
Roommate broke the microwave. :(
Anyway, as I was spooning cold imitation tomato sauce into my mouth my phone rang. It was the fox driving old guy from last month inviting me to dinner.
Ummm...what happened to giving a girl some notice?
Then I realized...Ummm...Bitch, You ARE eating COLD, GENERIC BRAND, MEAT POCKETS for dinner.
I agreed to dinner, scrambled for my "date dress" and met him at one of the finest restaurants in town.
From what I remembered he was handsome enough to justify at least one dinner. But then again I had never seen him in his Hawaiian shirt, khaki short, sock-less loafer wearing glory.
WTF was I thinking!!!!!!!!!!
The worst part being he looked like my grandpa. Meaning he looked like the kind of grandpa who's hand gravitates to the fine line between a young girls back and ass. Nothing kills a date like fearing you may seem to be part of a strange Incestuous love triangle.
It got worse when I was I.D'd at the door, and the hostess gave me a look of doom. Especially since I didn't HAVE my I.D and was left standing there while he went back to the car.
Once we DID make it inside, let me share with you what I received in exchange for partaking in a delicious $200.00 meal:
ONE: Glimpses of text messages coming from the hostess to my...date...asking him if he'd told me "the truth"
TWO: His Italian lessons, teaching me how to say "whore" and "slut" because that's what all these other girls were
THREE: Stories about what MADE these other girls "whores"
At one point, when he took a breath and learned that my hobby included writing, he then taught me a few things about books.
ONE: He was contemplating writing a book on relationships, because there just aren't any relationship books out there
TWO: Now that he's thought about it, he WAS going to write a book about relationships because there aren't any relationship books out there
THREE: He was going to call it "All men want is good pussy and all women need is a good dick"
I have never yearned for cold meat product more in my life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)