My Birthday Suit

"Hey, what are you doing," The Band teacher asked.

"I was just getting my things together to go riding," I replied.

"You want to get lunch first?"

"Hmmm. Well, Satoshi said he was going to ride later in the day, so I guess... sure."

I threw on a t-shirt and shorts and headed to the BT's house. From there, we took her car to lunch since her car is cooler. My car is a Yaris. It's frugal and sensible. Not sexy. She has a TC. It's aggressive with attitude. Also, if we take her car, it's like I have a chauffeur.

The BT said she was craving a Loco Moco. That's an over-easy egg on a hamburger patty, on rice, smothered with brown gravy. So we headed to a popular motel diner. I ate a saimin. That's Hawaii-style ramen. She paid for lunch since she was the one to ask me out. (See The Blonde? The one that asks the other out pays. Normal, eh?)

After we finished eating, The BT wanted to do something else. She missed my birthday the week before, and wanted to do something special to make it up to me. I didn't have any objections. My other option was to hang out with two other people who possess penises. We hopped into the BTmobile and moseyed on out.

The BT brought me to a small, private room where she had me take off my clothes. She was totally in charge of the situation. She was domineering and imperious. She broke me like a wild horse. I had no choice but to obey her every command.

"Take this one. Put this on. Take that off. Put that in. Pull it out."

But even though she was the boss, she was still caring and made sure I was ok.

"How does that feel? Do you like that? Is that nice? You like what you see?"

We did this for about 7 or 8 rounds. By the time we were done, I was broke. I was spent. I was a changed man.

When we started, I looked like this:










Now I look like this:



We went clothes shopping.

Foreign Food

It's been a while since Biker Teacher tried to get a date. He wasn't feeling too marketable after failing to even get a response from the Drug Pusher. But his feelings of rejection started to disappear when he met The Blonde.

The Blonde is an athletic girl. She showed some of her abilities during one of those ridiculous "team building" activities employers make you do. Seems like once word got out that Japanese companies made their workers do calisthenics, everyone in the world wanted to jump on the bandwagon and do crazy stuff too. She also talked about how she jogs every morning before work. It shows too. The Blonde is very fit and firm.

However, while a firm body evokes feelings in the nether regions, a great mind provides much fodder for fantasies. The Blonde’s brains provides a cornucopia of lust-fuel. It turns out that The Blonde possesses an advanced college degree. Not only beauty, but brains as well. A great two-pronged attack.

And yet, smarts and a bod may not always be enough. You got to have personality. And once again, The Blonde does not disappoint. Although she is inexperienced, she shows passion for her work. She also demonstrates the go-for-broke attitude made famous by the 442. She’s running into a few snags, but she’s still determined to be a success.

The Blonde is also a beer girl. Some girls are prissy and only drink wine coolers. Others are uppity and only drink wine. Others are ultra-feminine and insist on drinking colorful drinks that come with an umbrella. Beer girls are down to earth. They know how to enjoy themselves without being caught up in appearances. They exude self confidence.

Another way self confidence shows is through eating habits. If a girl is not afraid to eat in front of a guy, then you know she’s not going to be the type who will BS you. At the local pizzeria, The Blonde easily ate the most out of all of the table-mates, and also drank two Heinekens.

Biker Teacher was smitten. If The Blonde was a car, she would have had 300 horsepower, turbo charged, rear wheel drive, race suspension, a great stereo system, bucket seats, and still get 42 miles per gallon. With such a prize before him, Biker Teacher mustered his courage and searched for his danglies, since they shriveled in fear, and approached The Blonde.

“If you’re free this week, I’d like to take you out and buy you dinner,” said Biker Teacher.

“I’m sorry. I’m so busy. I don’t even have time to think about going out. Plus, I’m not sure I feel comfortable with you buying,” was The Blonde’s reply.

“If a guy asks a girl to dinner, shouldn’t he pay?”

“Yeah, but I have a boy friend. Would it be ok if we go Dutch?”

“Dutch? I don’t think so. I think I’d rather eat local food. Maybe I’ll call you again sometime.”

And the Biker Teacher went home to walk his dog in the rain.

I Get the Weirdest Questions

From girls on my cellphone.

One night, out of the blue, a girl calls and asks:

"Do you have a foreskin?"

Another girl on a Sunday evening:

"Are you in your pajamas?"

"No. You know I don't have pajamas."

"So you're naked?"

It was a roundabout way of asking if I would go to the bar.

She also asked, "are you on the toilet?"

"No. If I was dropping a log, I wouldn't have answered my phone."

"I would. Haha. Just kidding."

If I was dating these girls, then those questions would be a lot more fun, but I'm not, so they just leave me confused.

From The Blues Brothers

Jake: It's good to see you, sweetheart.

Mystery Woman: You contemptible pig! I remained celibate for you. I stood at the back of a cathedral, waiting, in celibacy, for you, with three hundred friends and relatives in attendance. My uncle hired the best Romanian caterers in the state. To obtain the seven limousines for the wedding party, my father used up his last favor with Mad Pete Trullo. So for me, for my mother, my grandmother, my father, my uncle, and for the common good, I must now kill you, and your brother.

[Jake falls to his knees]
Jake: Oh, please, don't kill us. Please, please don't kill us. You know I love you baby. I wouldn't leave ya. It wasn't my fault.

Mystery Woman: You miserable slug! You think you can talk your way out of this? You betrayed me.

Jake: No I didn't. Honest... I ran out of gas. I, I had a flat tire. I didn't have enough money for cab fare. My tux didn't come back from the cleaners. An old friend came in from out of town. Someone stole my car. There was an earthquake. A terrible flood. Locusts. IT WASN'T MY FAULT, I SWEAR TO GOD.

[Elwood covers his head in anticipation of more gunfire, Jake removes his sunglasses to make a wordless appeal, and the Mystery Woman visibly softens]
Mystery Woman: Oh, Jake... Jake, honey...

[Jake embraces the Mystery Woman and they kiss]
Jake: [to Elwood] Let's go.

[He drops the Mystery Woman and walks off]



I know how the woman felt. Well, not exactly. At least the woman got some made up excuses. I got nothing.

If you read the previous posts, you know that I was trying to get a date with a pharmacist. How did it go during the last month and a half? That's what I'd like to know. You see, I got absolutely NOTHING from the pharmacist.

Of course I could probably use a slap on the head for some of the idiot moves I pulled. I left some terrible voice mail on her phone.

"Hi (name withheld), this is Squiggy again. I know I left you a few other voicemails, but the truth is, I'd actually like to get to know you better. I don't know what it is; maybe because you're an intelligent lady, or maybe because you play video games. I'm a video game um... geek too. (The Band Teacher) told me about it. Anyway, yeah. Um, so I want to get to know you. Maybe take you to lunch, or dinner, or uh shopping? So um, yeah. I hope to hear back from you. My number is 867-5309. Yeah."

I also sent her a virus plushie with a note to try and entice her to reply to me.



Still no reply. It's times like this when I feel like the Elephant Man. Why the fuck is it so hard to get a first date? At this point, I really don't even care for the date. I'd just like to know why the pharmacist never bothered to reply. Could it be she thinks I'm some psycho stalker? Maybe. But we did meet in person a few times, and that was cordial. Could it be she's some narcistic ego maniac? I'd like to think so. Makes it hurt less when the bitch is off her rocker.

Bottom line, Girls, if a guy works up the balls to ask you out, just give him an answer. Doesn't matter if it's positive or negative. Just answer. If not, I will hunt you down and cut your heart out with a spoon.

Guy of Gisborne: Why a spoon, cousin? Why not an axe?

Sheriff of Nottingham: Because it's DULL, you twit. It'll hurt more.