Full on Fall
And mixed with That Special Visitor it's extra Suck-tastic.
I have things I could write about, but for some reason I just don't feel like it.
I could write about the strippers this past Saturday and how one of them was about as sexy as a porn star and looked eerily like Cato Calin. But I just don't have the energy to relive the violating nipple lick/bite and crotch grab...not to mention his propensity for whipping out his meaty-nonsense* and touching everybody with it. Seriously. It was like he was 5 and just discovered that boys have penises and girls have vaginas. I don't like strippers.
I could write about the big-ass bruise on my ankle from the spill down the stairs at the bar after the Unpleasantness and Drinks poured by The Bartended With a Mission From God to Get All of Us Completely Out of Our Minds Drunk.
Seriously. I was EMBARRASSED at how drunk I was. Look, I can throw em back. Ask people. They'll tell you...after their eyes widen in abject horror contemplating the amount of booze I can actually pour down my gullet. But Saturday I was in rare form. I know it's bad when I can't speak in complete sentences. I can think them, I can try and execute them, but my mouth refuses to cooperate. I am completely lucid inside. But my body has separated from my central nervous system. It's like being REALLY old. And your mind is totally intact, but you are powerless as your body succombs to the inevitable decay that time brings. And there's really nothing modern medicine can do short of building a stasis chamber with full-on life support in manner of Darth Vader.
And then try talking to a cute boy in that condition. It's not pretty.
So, yeah, that was pretty much my Saturday.
But I really don't feel like writing about it.
*©andy grigg
I have things I could write about, but for some reason I just don't feel like it.
I could write about the strippers this past Saturday and how one of them was about as sexy as a porn star and looked eerily like Cato Calin. But I just don't have the energy to relive the violating nipple lick/bite and crotch grab...not to mention his propensity for whipping out his meaty-nonsense* and touching everybody with it. Seriously. It was like he was 5 and just discovered that boys have penises and girls have vaginas. I don't like strippers.
I could write about the big-ass bruise on my ankle from the spill down the stairs at the bar after the Unpleasantness and Drinks poured by The Bartended With a Mission From God to Get All of Us Completely Out of Our Minds Drunk.
Seriously. I was EMBARRASSED at how drunk I was. Look, I can throw em back. Ask people. They'll tell you...after their eyes widen in abject horror contemplating the amount of booze I can actually pour down my gullet. But Saturday I was in rare form. I know it's bad when I can't speak in complete sentences. I can think them, I can try and execute them, but my mouth refuses to cooperate. I am completely lucid inside. But my body has separated from my central nervous system. It's like being REALLY old. And your mind is totally intact, but you are powerless as your body succombs to the inevitable decay that time brings. And there's really nothing modern medicine can do short of building a stasis chamber with full-on life support in manner of Darth Vader.
And then try talking to a cute boy in that condition. It's not pretty.
So, yeah, that was pretty much my Saturday.
But I really don't feel like writing about it.
*©andy grigg
posted by LC Greenwood at 11:35 AM
3 Comments:
Dagnabbit!
You've got to write about, publish a book about it, then produce a movie based upon it!
I'm with A. A move about late 20 to early 30-somethings, and the bachelorette party that goes awry. C'mon - you people are actors, writers. One of you's gotta be able to visualize that screenplay.
But in my mind, the burning question is... who's nip was licked and or bit? And what woman puts UP with that?
I mean, regular guys - wearing clothes - spend 20 hours out of every 24 thinking about, looking at or pretending to brush against boobs. All they get is a slap in the mouth.
But an average-looking dude takes his clothes off and bites one of your nips, and what happens? You girls all PULL OUT YOUR WALLETS AND PAY HIM. What the hell is that!?
oh make no mistake. This was an unsolicited bite and grab. The first stripper did no such thing. The second was a menace.
Post a Comment
<< Home