Wednesday, March 07, 2007

An Addendum

Some of you have doubted the veracity of my story. This was perhaps (as was pointed out to me several times yesterday) because I used such phrases as "this story is totally made up," and "I didn’t have sex with Alterna-girl," and "all of this story is fake, and "this is all made up."

Let us just say that I like to keep you guessing. So, without further fanfare and ado (and whatnot) I give to you:

My gigantic puppy, Abigail Road.

A picture of the aforementioned tattoo (cropped ever so carefully so as not to reveal more of my body than necessary, thus avoiding the possibility that you throw up little bits of your Sausage McGriddle from this morning).

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

This is Why Nothing Gets Done Around Here.

For the past hour I have been procrastinating by reading about why people procrastinate. I read that some people’s procrastination may be linked to depression. I had no idea I may be depressed. So I started thinking about whether I was depressed. This lead me to the conclusion that I may, in fact, be suffering some mild depression. This realization has made me so depressed that I am cannot seem to get any work done.

Monday, March 05, 2007

I May Have Messed Up.

What I am about to tell you will shock you. You should prepare yourself accordingly. If you are at work, make sure you muffle your impending audible gasp. If you are at home, please clear beverages away from the computer area so that you don’t knock them over when you raise your hand to your mouth like they do in movies when someone is shocked. If you are neither at home nor at work, and you are sitting at a Starbucks having a Chai Tea Latte, or on a park bench watching little birdies while you browse your way across the internets - well then fuck you. You heard me, fuck you. The rest of us have to work for a living and you are probably some guy who is living off of the royalties you inherited when you grandfather created The Gong show or some similarly stupid thing. However, if you are actually just off work today from your job in aerospace engineering, and you decided to grab a Chai Tea or stroll in the park, my sincerest apologies for saying “fuck you.”

So back to the shocking news. This weekend I went on a date. It was actually date 2 and a half with this girl. The first half-date involved me crashing at her apartment at 3:30 in the morning after a night of heavy drinking. She is a friend of a friend and we met when my friend brought her along to a night out. I have been trying to think of the best way to describe her for you. When I described her to some friends this weekend I called her Alterna-Girl. Her hair is an unnatural shade of red. She has many, many piercings in strange and phenomenal places, and she works at a tattoo parlor/piercing place/book store. You know when you are walking down the street and you see a girl whom you immediately know would be into some strange semi-illegal sexual practices. This is her. Basically, she is a hipster.

Like I said we have been on 2 and a half dates. The first half-date involved a drunken, sloppy tryst on her couch in the early morning hours two weeks ago. I called her the following Monday and suggested that we actually go on a date where we could interact and talk and such. We went for Thai food and a movie. Mistake number one was assuming that an Alterna-girl would be interested in such a date. It did not go well. No groping action followed. Profound disappoint abounded. I made a conscious note that if I wished to see more of that little cross tattoo on her hip I would have to change things up a bit. Well, a big change happened.

On Saturday night we were supposed to go out again. This time she asked if I wanted to go see a band in which her friend was playing. We met late and drank heavily again (always a good sign). We moved bars to where her friend was playing. We watched a few songs then went outside for a smoke. She, once again, expressed boredom. I suggested that we go to my house and drink some more. She seemed excited about that idea (and why wouldn’t she?).

We left her car and took mine. On the way there, she said she wanted to stop by her work to see if someone left some thing for her. We went in together, where I started talking to the tattoo guy.
Scenes from the next twenty minutes:

Me: I’ve always thought about getting a tattoo.

Her: (jumping up and down, giddy with excitement) Please get one it will be so cool!

Tattoo guy: Because you came in with her, I’ll do it for half price.

Her: (after I told her there was no way I was getting tattooed - her with pouty bottom lip and everything) I was really hoping you would do it.

Me: (Trying to keep her excited - but without needles entering my body) I don’t even know what I would get - I should think about it and come back next weekend.

Her: (Seeming a little turned on) Lets look through the book and find something really hot.

So people, (as your surmised) I am now the proud owner of a huge fucking tattoo of a weirdly-designed sun on my left shoulder blade. It is big and black and it hurt like a mother fucker.

This officially goes down as the most I have ever done to have sex with a girl. I am modest, so I won’t talk about any details. However, let me just say that it totally worked. She was a ferocious sexual beast that could not get enough of me, and it was one the Top 5s of sexual experiences of my life. We did things in ways that I previously thought not possible. You know that scene in Zoolander where they all have peyote-induced sex. It was like that - only with Southern Comfort instead of peyote. My dog actually barked because she thought someone was being murdered by the amount of screaming. I don’t want to talk about it though. I’m too much of a gentlemen for that.

The worst part is I don’t think I am going to see her anymore. She has a weird sexual thing she did that freaked me out a bit. So yeah, I got a tattoo for a girl I was on a second and a half date with, that I am no longer going to see. I’m a fucking winner. Big time.

For those of you that know me in real life: This story is totally made up. I didn’t have sex with Alterna-girl. There is no need to feel weird around me now. All of this story is fake. Please don’t tell Alterna-girl about this blog. I am a little scared of her, and I don’t want her to know I told everyone in the world what occurred. Not that anything occurred since this is all made up. So there.