Been a while since I wrote something. I actually had a busy October, but I promised not to write about it. So you guys will have to be satisfied with November. For November, I seem to be having weird interactions with women.
This is what happened when the Band Teacher and I went out to lunch one day:
We were seated and a nice caucasian waitress came over to take our order. After she left, I said, "she looks like she works out."
When the waitress came back with our drinks, I asked if she works out.
"I surf and swim a lot. I haven't been to a gym since I moved here though. But I love the beaches around here. I'm from San Diego, but the ocean around here is just so much better. Is it my large shoulders? Back in school, the guys used to ask me to flex. Do they look weird?"
"Not at all. In fact, I think you look very attractive."
After she thanked me, she went back to work. I talked to the BT about body language and how it's fun to see all these couples here and try to figure out what's going on. Then I said that if someone was watching us, they would be wondering what the hell was going on. I was looking at every single attractive female in the place while my "girl" took it casually. The BT said that if they paid attention to her body language, they should know we weren't a couple. I told her she was wrong. Then I pointed out how the hostess wanted to seat us side by side.
I then noticed the waitress had her back to us while she fiddled with those computerized drink terminal thingies. She had nicely shaped legs, but the BT refused to look when I told her to.
When the waitress came over with our food, I spoke again.
"I never got your name."
"Oops. I'm sorry. It's C*****. We're supposed to introduce ourselves when we first greet the customers. . . [she spoke too fast at this point]."
Lunch took some time to finish. I had a really big cheese burger and the BT had a fish taco. I told her to be ready because I was going to make a fool of myself. C***** came back with our bill.
"Hey C*****, what do you think of this? I'm a 35 year old teacher. I love mountain biking and riding motorcycles. Any of that sound interesting?"
"Yeah! I love motorcycles."
"How about movies? You interested in movies?"
"Oh, I do love going to the movies, but I have a boyfriend."
"Might not be a good idea then."
"Yeah. But um, aren't you with, um. . . your wife. . . girlfriend?"
The BT piped up, "oh no. I'm just the sister he never knew he had nor wanted."
"Oh, you two are just friends," C***** asked.
I replied, "yup. But the funny thing is we were just talking about how people would mistake us for a couple."
C***** finished with, "you know what? Thanks. You really made my day."
"No problem. In fact, I really enjoyed looking at you." [wtf was I saying? I need to stop drinking beer during lunch.]
Later that day, on my bike ride:
There's this one female security guard for the hotel where we ride our bikes. I saw she was working today, so I was determined to talk to her before I left.
I pulled up to the guard booth, and she waved. I stopped, took off my sunglasses, and said, "you know, I see you here often, but I've never introduced myself. My name is Squiggy."
She stood up and came closer to shake my hand. "My name is C*****."
"Hi C*****. So how does a girl like you become a security guard?"
"You know, I'm not quite sure myself. I keep trying to tell them to hire more women so I'm not the only one."
"Hmmm. I'm not sure how you'll take this. I was going to say that you were the most attractive security guard around here, but since you're the only female one. . ."
C***** smiles.
"Well, I guess I should let you get back to work. It does look rather boring though sitting here all night. Maybe I should sneak in some beers?"
"I'm allergic to beer."
I look stunned.
"So what do you do when you go out?"
"I hardly go out anymore. I usually stay home. When I did go out drinking, I would drink hards."
"You usually stay home? How old are you?"
"21"
"Twenty one??? And you don't go out drinking?"
"I used to drink a lot in high school," C***** smiles.
"Ah, I got it. It's no fun now that you're legal, huh. Well maybe I can take you out for drinks one night. I'll see you around."
"Yup. You will since you've seen me often before."
She later declined my offer a couple days later to get drunk.
This happened during the work week:
Girl Student: Mr. Squiggy, Miss [cute Science Teacher] told me to ask you something.
Me: Um, kay. . .
Girl: I'll tell you after class. (40 minutes later) Miss Science Teacher told me to tell you to buy a ticket to my hula performance.
Me: Huh? Why?
Girl: She bought one, but she doesn't want to go alone.
Me: So she told you to ask me?
Girl: Yeah.
Me: Um, kay. . . how much is a ticket?
Girl: $20 for the dinner too.
Me: Twenty bucks???
Girl: Yeah. Miss Science Teacher bought the $20 one.
Me: Great. OK. Meet me during lunch. I'll go get my money.
Email to Science Teacher: You're going to drive for this.
After mountain biking:
In the afternoon, while we were loading up our bikes, a rental car pulled up to the lookout. Out popped some old fogie and a tall, attractive blonde. We made some small talk about things to see around there. She, her mom I guess, her grandpa, and a hot sister were out for the day touring. They came on a cruise ship. The tall blonde looked good, and she was doing stretches in front of me, but I couldn't bring myself to flirt with her. I guess I R-tard.
After jogging that afternoon with a girl:
The girl adjusted her sanitary napkin in front of me. I also matter-of-factly pointed out her nipples were showing. To which she replied that it's natural since she was wearing a sports bra and she was active. Then she started to poke at her nipple while I watched.
"Um, let's get going before something else besides your nipples gets hard."
The BT and I went to a bar:
There was another attractive waitress, go figure. However, she was dressed differently from the other waitresses. Of course, me being me, I had to ask. She explain that she worked behind the bar, and was also a food runner. She also explained that her uniform matched the guys, but of course, the one she wore was a more feminine style. I agree.
While the BT was settling the tab, I kept watching that attractive waitress. She was stocking some drinks behind the bar, and whenever she bent over, her top would lift a little and expose her lower back. I thought it looked great. No muffin top, no tramp stamp, no blemishes. Nothing but smooth skin. (The BT later asked how I was able to determine that in the poorly lit conditions. I hate her for ruining my dreams.) I decided I had to say something to the attractive brunette.
I took my chance when she walked past me. "Excuse me." She stopped. I reached out my hand, and she put hers into mine. I got to look at her close up for the first time that night. She was very pretty. However, several hours of mountain biking, including a crash, a 2 mile walk/jog, a couple of hours wrenching on a motorcycle, and alcohol, all conspired to give me the equivalent of a first grade reading level.
"Yes," she asked as I held her hand.
"You remind me of a Gilmore Girl." DOH!
To the old saleslady in a jewelry store:
"Can I get a fiance to go with this wedding band?"
In Macy's when a 5'8" blonde walked past me:
"Careful sir," warned a saleslady.
"Thud," said my foot as a kicked a shoe display really hard.
"Sorry. I was just looking at the pretty tall girl."
In a different store, helping my friend find a gift for his girlfriend:
Friend and I: Hi H****. (She was a friend's wife)
Me: Hey H****. If you were a girl. . .
Friend: What do you mean, "if?"
Me continuing unabated: What would you do if you got a stuffed animal as a gift? You'd probably just put it on a shelf or something, right?
H****: Yeah, probably.
Me: But what if someone special gave you a cute blanket. Or maybe a cute pillow. Wouldn't you love to get that?
H****: Oh yes!
(I threw in that last one more for discussion. Would women prefer something like a blanket or pillow to a stuffed animal?)
Showing posts with label conversation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conversation. Show all posts
Monday, November 19, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
What's In Your Wallet?
"OK. The tip comes out to $4.0125. Rounded off, that makes it $4.01. Now we divide that by three. . ."
Eight minutes later, Biker Teacher found himself at the motel diner's cashier. He handed the cashier his check card and waited while she rang up his tab. Out of the corner of his eye, Biker Teacher spotted a woman approaching him. Fast. He figured that at her elevated rate of speed, if she didn't stop soon, she would collide into him. A klaxon sounded in his head. All hands, brace for impact.
The woman didn't stop. She didn't even slow down.
Bang.
"Biker Teacher, long time no see," the woman said.
"Fearsome Sweetie! Hey, I was wondering who this woman was coming at me at ramming speed," Biker Teacher replied. He turned around for a second to sign his bill, then faced the encroaching female once again.
"I didn't know you were back on the island," Fearsome Sweetie said.
"Been back since 2000." It might have been 1999, but 2000 was an easier number to blurt out without thinking. Biker Teacher hugged Fearsome Sweetie.
"Really? Wow. So what have you been up to?" Fearsome Sweetie asked while keeping her body well within Biker Teacher's personal space.
"I've been teaching at Ass Crack Middle. Can you believe that?"
Fearsome Sweetie laughed. "I can't believe I haven't seen you around."
"I don't drink much, so I don't get out much," Biker Teacher said with a smile.
"I don't drink either. Hey, this is my friend Dar. Dar, this is my classmate, Biker Teacher." Biker Teacher shook Dar's hand while Fearsome Sweetie remain close. "So have you talked to Nicks?"
"Actually, yes. I had both of her kids as students."
"That must have been interesting," Fearsome Sweetie said with a smile. Biker Teacher remembered that during high school, he used to be afraid of Fearsome Sweetie. Now she never did anything to him to deserve that fear. In fact, she was a rather pleasant person. Biker Teacher just developed a sweetie-phobia because Fearsome Sweetie had a very rough exterior. However, her smile today was genuinely pretty.
And that's when Biker Teacher realized that Fearsome Sweetie was well inside his personal bubble, and it made him feel awkward since he was not used to having pretty women so close by. Well, at least not women of legal age anyway.
"You know, if you're going to stand so close to me, I may end up suggesting that we get a room. We are in a motel, after all," Biker Teacher attempted to be funny.
"Oh really?" Fearsome Sweetie laughed.
"Yup. I could just put the room on my credit card and earn airline miles."
"Biker, Biker, Biker. Tsk tsk. Have you forgotten me already?"
"Eh?"
"Biker, if you remembered me," Fearsome Sweetie started giggling, "you would know that I don't give a flying fuck."
Eight minutes later, Biker Teacher found himself at the motel diner's cashier. He handed the cashier his check card and waited while she rang up his tab. Out of the corner of his eye, Biker Teacher spotted a woman approaching him. Fast. He figured that at her elevated rate of speed, if she didn't stop soon, she would collide into him. A klaxon sounded in his head. All hands, brace for impact.
The woman didn't stop. She didn't even slow down.
Bang.
"Biker Teacher, long time no see," the woman said.
"Fearsome Sweetie! Hey, I was wondering who this woman was coming at me at ramming speed," Biker Teacher replied. He turned around for a second to sign his bill, then faced the encroaching female once again.
"I didn't know you were back on the island," Fearsome Sweetie said.
"Been back since 2000." It might have been 1999, but 2000 was an easier number to blurt out without thinking. Biker Teacher hugged Fearsome Sweetie.
"Really? Wow. So what have you been up to?" Fearsome Sweetie asked while keeping her body well within Biker Teacher's personal space.
"I've been teaching at Ass Crack Middle. Can you believe that?"
Fearsome Sweetie laughed. "I can't believe I haven't seen you around."
"I don't drink much, so I don't get out much," Biker Teacher said with a smile.
"I don't drink either. Hey, this is my friend Dar. Dar, this is my classmate, Biker Teacher." Biker Teacher shook Dar's hand while Fearsome Sweetie remain close. "So have you talked to Nicks?"
"Actually, yes. I had both of her kids as students."
"That must have been interesting," Fearsome Sweetie said with a smile. Biker Teacher remembered that during high school, he used to be afraid of Fearsome Sweetie. Now she never did anything to him to deserve that fear. In fact, she was a rather pleasant person. Biker Teacher just developed a sweetie-phobia because Fearsome Sweetie had a very rough exterior. However, her smile today was genuinely pretty.
And that's when Biker Teacher realized that Fearsome Sweetie was well inside his personal bubble, and it made him feel awkward since he was not used to having pretty women so close by. Well, at least not women of legal age anyway.
"You know, if you're going to stand so close to me, I may end up suggesting that we get a room. We are in a motel, after all," Biker Teacher attempted to be funny.
"Oh really?" Fearsome Sweetie laughed.
"Yup. I could just put the room on my credit card and earn airline miles."
"Biker, Biker, Biker. Tsk tsk. Have you forgotten me already?"
"Eh?"
"Biker, if you remembered me," Fearsome Sweetie started giggling, "you would know that I don't give a flying fuck."
Friday, April 27, 2007
Bicycle Built for One
It was Wednesday afternoon. Wednesday was the day of the week Biker Teacher rode his mountain bike with Rat and Big Brother. They rode a seven mile road loop that passed behind a hotel and an airport. This is how they exercised and socialized amongst themselves.
It started off like any other day. Biker Teacher stretched before the ride. Big Brother and Rat chose not to. Biker Teacher suspected that they were too homophobic to bend at the waist to touch their toes. Once properly stretched, the trio geared up for the ride. Rat always wore a full-face motorcross helmet. It made him look like the hooligan he was. Biker Teacher and Big Brother wore their cyclist helmets that made their heads appear like larger versions of their smaller heads. With their melons properly encased in impact absorbing form, they set off on the ride.
Bicycle riding is a very good form of cardiovascular exercise. The constant effort on your large muscle groups is good for fat-burning and a stronger heart. The addition of gossiping, bullshitting, and one-up-manship doubles the effectiveness of the exercise.
"You guys coming out to the drag races this month?" asked Rat.
"Is the blonde going to be there?" asked Biker Teacher.
"Probably not. I'm over her," was the reply.
"Um, you had one date," Big Brother pointed out.
"Yeah. But she had her chance."
And they all laughed.
Most of their conversations went like that. They loved to kid each other about their non-existent love lives. Either that, or they tried to convince each other that perhaps an alternative lifestyle would be more to their liking.
"You're gay."
"No. YOU gay."
"Nah. YOU gay," ad nauseam.
Every now and then they would get lucky and cross paths with a well toned female jogger. Pure serendipity. Which is why whenever they passed one, they would immediately hush and ride while looking straight ahead for fear of getting caught looking.
It just so happened that on this particular Wednesday, they spotted a very firm XX chromosome on the road. As they approached from the rear, they noticed her rear. It was one that you could literally bounce quarters off of. Lycra running shorts, normally unkind, was very flattering on this wonderfully shaped woman. The trio rode past in their normal silent running mode. Big Brother was lucky enough to glance back at just the right moment. He got to watch Jogger Lady tend to her desert-beast-of-burden-foot-appendage. The trio looked at each other. Upraised thumbs were shown with nods of approval. Then the ride continued.
Biker Teacher had been debating on buying a new mountain bike. His current bike, a Haro X6, was a good entry bike, but now that he had more experience, he needed something that matched his riding style. Biker Teacher preferred to ride with the wheels on the ground. The Haro X6 preferred to ride with Biker Teacher on the ground.
"Maybe I could just get a frame and throw all these parts on it," said Biker Teacher.
"Well, you already got a good fork and new Saint cranks," said Big Brother, "in fact, the cranks came in a really nice box too."
"What about Girl-Friend's box?" asked Rat.
They all laughed.
Rat continued, "you know what though? I'm over women."
"Until the next one calls you, right?" asked Biker Teacher.
"Right. Because I'll just keep going back for more," Rat replied. And they rode on.
There is an old, abandoned shopping mall along the bike route. It was originally filled with classy stores with exorbitant prices designed to entice foreigners to open their wallets. That was before an act of God wrecked the place. Now it's a little freeride playground for Rat. Biker Teacher and Big Brother stopped at the mall to take a break while Rat played. Jogger Lady caught up and ran past.
"I remember who she is. She's your classmate's older sister," Big Brother said to Biker Teacher.
"No shit?" Biker Teacher rode off to catch Jogger Lady. Once he caught up to her he called out.
"Hey. You remember me? I'm Chad's classmate."
"Oh hey. Yeah, I do remember you. How you doing?" Jogger Lady asked while still running.
Biker Teacher kept pace. "I'm fine. From the looks of things, you're real fine too."
Jogger Lady smiled. She seemed happy hearing the compliment.
"I haven't seen you before. You jog here regularly?" queried Biker Teacher.
"I used to jog around the stadium, but this route is more interesting."
"Sweet. You know, this is odd. I'm the type of guy who can approach and talk to ugly chicks, but I get tongue tied around beautiful women," he said.
"And?" she asked.
"And? Nothing really. Just stating a simple fact that I seem to be able to approach and talk to you," he replied.
"I see." The happiness had left her.
"I'm glad you're jogging. It's great. I thought I was looking at a 25 year old. It wasn't until I saw your face that I realized you were 39," said Biker Teacher.
"I'm 36, ass," mutter Jogger Lady.
"Yeah, that's right. You were always older than me."
Jogger Lady stopped. "You know what? I'm going to stop talking now and continue running. You don't have to follow me. Have a nice life." And she ran off without delay.
Biker Teacher stood there feeling dejected for a minute. Then he shrugged and rode back to the mall. Big Brother and Rat were waiting for him.
"So, did she touch your penis?" Rat had been quoting Harold and Kumar that week.
"Man, I am so over her," announced Biker Teacher.
"Until she calls," said Big Brother.
"Yeah, because I just keep going back for more," said Biker Teacher.
It started off like any other day. Biker Teacher stretched before the ride. Big Brother and Rat chose not to. Biker Teacher suspected that they were too homophobic to bend at the waist to touch their toes. Once properly stretched, the trio geared up for the ride. Rat always wore a full-face motorcross helmet. It made him look like the hooligan he was. Biker Teacher and Big Brother wore their cyclist helmets that made their heads appear like larger versions of their smaller heads. With their melons properly encased in impact absorbing form, they set off on the ride.
Bicycle riding is a very good form of cardiovascular exercise. The constant effort on your large muscle groups is good for fat-burning and a stronger heart. The addition of gossiping, bullshitting, and one-up-manship doubles the effectiveness of the exercise.
"You guys coming out to the drag races this month?" asked Rat.
"Is the blonde going to be there?" asked Biker Teacher.
"Probably not. I'm over her," was the reply.
"Um, you had one date," Big Brother pointed out.
"Yeah. But she had her chance."
And they all laughed.
Most of their conversations went like that. They loved to kid each other about their non-existent love lives. Either that, or they tried to convince each other that perhaps an alternative lifestyle would be more to their liking.
"You're gay."
"No. YOU gay."
"Nah. YOU gay," ad nauseam.
Every now and then they would get lucky and cross paths with a well toned female jogger. Pure serendipity. Which is why whenever they passed one, they would immediately hush and ride while looking straight ahead for fear of getting caught looking.
It just so happened that on this particular Wednesday, they spotted a very firm XX chromosome on the road. As they approached from the rear, they noticed her rear. It was one that you could literally bounce quarters off of. Lycra running shorts, normally unkind, was very flattering on this wonderfully shaped woman. The trio rode past in their normal silent running mode. Big Brother was lucky enough to glance back at just the right moment. He got to watch Jogger Lady tend to her desert-beast-of-burden-foot-appendage. The trio looked at each other. Upraised thumbs were shown with nods of approval. Then the ride continued.
Biker Teacher had been debating on buying a new mountain bike. His current bike, a Haro X6, was a good entry bike, but now that he had more experience, he needed something that matched his riding style. Biker Teacher preferred to ride with the wheels on the ground. The Haro X6 preferred to ride with Biker Teacher on the ground.
"Maybe I could just get a frame and throw all these parts on it," said Biker Teacher.
"Well, you already got a good fork and new Saint cranks," said Big Brother, "in fact, the cranks came in a really nice box too."
"What about Girl-Friend's box?" asked Rat.
They all laughed.
Rat continued, "you know what though? I'm over women."
"Until the next one calls you, right?" asked Biker Teacher.
"Right. Because I'll just keep going back for more," Rat replied. And they rode on.
There is an old, abandoned shopping mall along the bike route. It was originally filled with classy stores with exorbitant prices designed to entice foreigners to open their wallets. That was before an act of God wrecked the place. Now it's a little freeride playground for Rat. Biker Teacher and Big Brother stopped at the mall to take a break while Rat played. Jogger Lady caught up and ran past.
"I remember who she is. She's your classmate's older sister," Big Brother said to Biker Teacher.
"No shit?" Biker Teacher rode off to catch Jogger Lady. Once he caught up to her he called out.
"Hey. You remember me? I'm Chad's classmate."
"Oh hey. Yeah, I do remember you. How you doing?" Jogger Lady asked while still running.
Biker Teacher kept pace. "I'm fine. From the looks of things, you're real fine too."
Jogger Lady smiled. She seemed happy hearing the compliment.
"I haven't seen you before. You jog here regularly?" queried Biker Teacher.
"I used to jog around the stadium, but this route is more interesting."
"Sweet. You know, this is odd. I'm the type of guy who can approach and talk to ugly chicks, but I get tongue tied around beautiful women," he said.
"And?" she asked.
"And? Nothing really. Just stating a simple fact that I seem to be able to approach and talk to you," he replied.
"I see." The happiness had left her.
"I'm glad you're jogging. It's great. I thought I was looking at a 25 year old. It wasn't until I saw your face that I realized you were 39," said Biker Teacher.
"I'm 36, ass," mutter Jogger Lady.
"Yeah, that's right. You were always older than me."
Jogger Lady stopped. "You know what? I'm going to stop talking now and continue running. You don't have to follow me. Have a nice life." And she ran off without delay.
Biker Teacher stood there feeling dejected for a minute. Then he shrugged and rode back to the mall. Big Brother and Rat were waiting for him.
"So, did she touch your penis?" Rat had been quoting Harold and Kumar that week.
"Man, I am so over her," announced Biker Teacher.
"Until she calls," said Big Brother.
"Yeah, because I just keep going back for more," said Biker Teacher.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
English 101
Today was the day Girl-Friend's research project was due. Just so you know, Girl-Friend wasn't Biker Teacher's girlfriend. Instead, she was friend who happened to be female. Now if that teenager description doesn't explain the situation, Girl-Friend and Biker Teacher had a platonic relationship. Which means, although Biker Teacher found Girl-Friend attractive, he stood no chance of getting any play because he looked like Thurlug the Orc.
Although Biker Teacher had long since graduated from college, and even completed an extra bout of accredited lobotomies, he was there at the school. He had a vested interest in Girl-Friend's research project. He had spent the week editing her paperwork. It was important for him to see if his expository writing skills were still butterknife sharp.
And he also saw a picture of Research Partner. Rawr!
Research Partner was a petite, lightly tanned, young Asian woman. She had a nice smile, and brown hair, which was a result of a stylish bleaching. But most importantly, she was single.
Biker Teacher skipped over to meet Girl-Friend in the college library. Normally men don't skip. However, since he possessed a college degree, and the other lesser male college students didn't, he felt it ok to be a little whimsical.
"How did it go?" he asked, with a slight pant.
"Not sure yet," was the reply. "But our professor is the type to lower your grade if the formatting is off."
Biker Teacher rubbed his scruffy, scarred chin. "Ah yes. I had professors like that before. They were called 'bitches.'"
Girl-Friend chuckled, then her attention was drawn elsewhere. "There's Research Partner. She's coming over."
An Asian goddess appeared before Biker Teacher. His mind fumbled with words. Do he prostate himself? Prostate? He wondered why he thought of the little rectal walnut instead of prostrate.
"What is he doing?" Research Partner inquired.
"Don't worry. He does that when he's lost in thought. Hey, Biker Teacher. Wake up."
Biker Teacher's mind still raced with a million things to say. He finally settled on being romantic, which, to those on the receiving end, could be fatal.
Biker Teacher assumed his best Rico Suave look and managed to utter a string of mangled thoughts. "So you must be Research Partner. Girl-Friend told me about you. But I can see now that she grossly over-stated your beauty."
"Excuse me?" Research Partner furrowed her brow.
"That means you're pretty. Maybe you should take some English classes. It might help you. And if you get stuck with the larger words, I can help out," Biker Teacher was eager to offer his services.
It was at this point that Girl-Friend tried to use her powers of invisibility for selfish reasons. She camouflaged herself as best she could next to the bulletin board covered with ads. She knew better than to associate herself with Biker Teacher once he gets on a roll.
Research Girl turned away from Biker Teacher and faced the translucent Girl-Friend. "I have our project board done and was about to..."
"I heard you were single and desperate. Want to get a coffee?" Biker Teacher interrupted.
Research Partner took a deep breath, grit her teeth, and rolled her eyes. Her lightly tanned complexion took on a reddish hue.
He continued unabated, "I heard you're a single parent. That must be tough. Mr. Esquire says I would make a good father."
"Oh really now," said Research Partner with obvious disbelief.
Girl-Friend was using her 14th level Hide in Shadows skill and was just a few yards from the exit now.
"Yes," Biker Teacher stated boldly, "in fact, Mr. Esquire said I should do my utmost to give your kid a baby brother or sister."
Girl-Friend slipped out the door unnoticed.
Research Partner clenched her fists tightly at her sides. She spoke through her teeth as she scowled. "Look, I don't know who you are..."
"Biker Teacher."
"Or where you came from..."
"The westside."
"Or what you're doing here..."
"Trying to get a date with you."
"But it will be a cold day in Hell when I go out on a date with you!" She stomped her foot, punched the bulletin board, and kicked open the door as she stormed out.
Biker Teacher skipped out of the library. He found Girl-Friend waiting just outside. She seemed confused by the look of victory on his face. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.
"I've got a date for winter solstice."
Although Biker Teacher had long since graduated from college, and even completed an extra bout of accredited lobotomies, he was there at the school. He had a vested interest in Girl-Friend's research project. He had spent the week editing her paperwork. It was important for him to see if his expository writing skills were still butterknife sharp.
And he also saw a picture of Research Partner. Rawr!
Research Partner was a petite, lightly tanned, young Asian woman. She had a nice smile, and brown hair, which was a result of a stylish bleaching. But most importantly, she was single.
Biker Teacher skipped over to meet Girl-Friend in the college library. Normally men don't skip. However, since he possessed a college degree, and the other lesser male college students didn't, he felt it ok to be a little whimsical.
"How did it go?" he asked, with a slight pant.
"Not sure yet," was the reply. "But our professor is the type to lower your grade if the formatting is off."
Biker Teacher rubbed his scruffy, scarred chin. "Ah yes. I had professors like that before. They were called 'bitches.'"
Girl-Friend chuckled, then her attention was drawn elsewhere. "There's Research Partner. She's coming over."
An Asian goddess appeared before Biker Teacher. His mind fumbled with words. Do he prostate himself? Prostate? He wondered why he thought of the little rectal walnut instead of prostrate.
"What is he doing?" Research Partner inquired.
"Don't worry. He does that when he's lost in thought. Hey, Biker Teacher. Wake up."
Biker Teacher's mind still raced with a million things to say. He finally settled on being romantic, which, to those on the receiving end, could be fatal.
Biker Teacher assumed his best Rico Suave look and managed to utter a string of mangled thoughts. "So you must be Research Partner. Girl-Friend told me about you. But I can see now that she grossly over-stated your beauty."
"Excuse me?" Research Partner furrowed her brow.
"That means you're pretty. Maybe you should take some English classes. It might help you. And if you get stuck with the larger words, I can help out," Biker Teacher was eager to offer his services.
It was at this point that Girl-Friend tried to use her powers of invisibility for selfish reasons. She camouflaged herself as best she could next to the bulletin board covered with ads. She knew better than to associate herself with Biker Teacher once he gets on a roll.
Research Girl turned away from Biker Teacher and faced the translucent Girl-Friend. "I have our project board done and was about to..."
"I heard you were single and desperate. Want to get a coffee?" Biker Teacher interrupted.
Research Partner took a deep breath, grit her teeth, and rolled her eyes. Her lightly tanned complexion took on a reddish hue.
He continued unabated, "I heard you're a single parent. That must be tough. Mr. Esquire says I would make a good father."
"Oh really now," said Research Partner with obvious disbelief.
Girl-Friend was using her 14th level Hide in Shadows skill and was just a few yards from the exit now.
"Yes," Biker Teacher stated boldly, "in fact, Mr. Esquire said I should do my utmost to give your kid a baby brother or sister."
Girl-Friend slipped out the door unnoticed.
Research Partner clenched her fists tightly at her sides. She spoke through her teeth as she scowled. "Look, I don't know who you are..."
"Biker Teacher."
"Or where you came from..."
"The westside."
"Or what you're doing here..."
"Trying to get a date with you."
"But it will be a cold day in Hell when I go out on a date with you!" She stomped her foot, punched the bulletin board, and kicked open the door as she stormed out.
Biker Teacher skipped out of the library. He found Girl-Friend waiting just outside. She seemed confused by the look of victory on his face. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.
"I've got a date for winter solstice."
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Sun Tzu's Art of Conversation
The Biker Teacher walked into Margins, the large discount books and music store. He was an average guy, but always felt more of a square peg in a round world. He liked to think he and Harrison Bergeron had a lot in common, except for the scrap metal. And the ear radio. And the spectacles. And the red rubber ball. Actually, Biker Teacher realized he didn't have much in common with Harrison Bergeron except that they both seem stuck in some surreal world of someone else's creation. Biker Teacher stopped thinking about it when a loud buzzer sounded in his head.
Once inside, the Biker Teacher surveyed the area. He carefully studied each book monger he saw. He was there specifically to look for one particular monger. Panning his view from right to left, the Biker Teacher searched for his prey. Aha, he spotted her.
Pierced Girl had her shoulder-length raven hair in two ponytails. She wore a black dress which seemed to be systematically torn vertically along the hem. She had a pierce brow and a lip ring. Biker Teacher wondered if perhaps she got her fashion cues from the movie Beetlejuice.
Now Biker Teacher is known for his wit and charm. However, he suffers from chronic shyness. He was diagnosed with this affliction after he realized that he resembled Goofy more than Mickey. So although he could think of a million things to say at any given point in time, he could never bring himself to actually say anything. That is, until today.
Biker Teacher's friend, Mr. Esquire, had given him several tips on the art of conversation. Mr. Esquire is a successful attorney. As everyone knows, attorneys need to be able to blow a lot of hot air in order to survive. That's because once they pass the bar, they sell their souls to Satan, and the empty cavity that used to house their souls now house fire and brimstone. If the attorney was not able to expel the heat of hades, they would suffer a core melt down much like Chernobyl.
Biker Teacher chuckled to himself, then realized he looked like a fool laughing to himself, so he soldiered on. He approached the lovely Pierced Girl and attempted to start a dialog.
"Hi. I just recently learned how to read. I've managed to get through several of Dr. Seuss's books and now I'm looking for something meatier. A friend suggested something by Terry Hatchet. Or Lachet. Was it Matchet?"
"Pratchett," Pierced Girl corrected.
"Yes, Pratchett. That's the ticket." Biker Teacher really did know it was Pratchett. He just feigned stupidity for the sake of starting a conversation. "Can you show me where his books are?" Biker Teacher asked.
"Sure. Follow me," Pierced Girl said as she gestured Biker Teacher to follow by curling a single digit. He noticed that the single digit was not only clean and well manicured, but it had an appealing set of proportions. Then he wondered why he was so fascinated by a finger. "Here they are," Pierced Girl pointed to a selection of books on a shelf at shoulder height. She really did have a lovely finger.
"Thank you. Now this may sound a bit forward, but I figure sometimes you need to take a chance. If that there cash register prints out a coupon for the Starbucks, could I buy you a coffee?"
"And what if it doesn't print out a coupon?" Pierced Girl giggled.
"Um, juice ok?"
Pierced girl let out a laugh and a half snort. She caught herself just before she fully snorted. "It's about time for my break anyway. I'll meet you at the Starbucks in five minutes. Get me something strong."
The coupon read: Take 30% off your next purchase of Folk Music CDs. The Biker Teacher didn't care. He was way too elated. The fat-guy-with-curly-hair could have rung him up for an entire encyclopedia set and the Biker Teacher wouldn't have noticed. He waltzed over to the next door Starbucks. He literally waltzed. Well, not so much a waltz, but an attempt at something resembling a dance. Biker Teacher was absent the day they taught grace.
A few minutes went by and the Pierced Girl arrived and sat next to him. He handed her a Latte. He had a fruit smoothie for himself. He was concerned about staining his teeth.
Now the pressure was on for the Biker Teacher. He managed to get the Pierced Girl to have coffee with him, but now he has to make a good impression in a short amount of time. He remembered Mr. Esquire's suggestion about looking for her choices on a Staff Picks.
"I didn't see any books under your name on the Staff Picks list," said the Biker Teacher.
"Oh. I didn't list any books. I did list a few CDs I like," replied the Pierced Girl.
"Ah. I've been meaning to expand my music library. What did you pick? Maybe I could buy it."
"AFI"
The Biker Teacher heard of this band before. "Aren't they a punk rock band? Why do you listen to crap like that?"
And there was a moment of silence. Biker Teacher realized he said something inappropriate, but he wasn't sure what. He thought back to something else that Mr. Esquire suggested. Mr. Esquire noted that females like to talk about themselves. It would be a good idea to get the topic of conversation focused on the girl, and to let her talk. This was a good idea. If Pierced Girl was doing the talking, and Biker Teacher tried his best to look interested, there should be little chance for more Hoof-in-Mouth disease. The Biker Teacher tried again.
"Errr, ummm. I've been meaning to ask, what ethnicity are you? I mean, you're very pretty, and I'm curious as to where you got that rather large nose of yours."
Pierced Girl seemed taken aback. Her body stiffened as she shifted away from the table. She seemed agitated. Biker Teacher was starting to worry. How could the conversation be going all wrong? Didn't he get good advice from Mr. Esquire? Wait a tick. Mr. Esquire mentioned that since Pierced Girl has piercings, she may have tattoos, and that could lead to more conversation.
"I'm sorry. That came out wrong. Please forget what I said. I love your piercings, by the way. Normally I think they look disgusting, but on you, they look great. You wouldn't happen to have any tattoos? Perhaps a small one on your inner thigh? Or even a bitch patch on your back?"
The corners of Pierced Girl's mouth turned south as she scowled. Biker Teacher is good at reading people. He noticed that something was bothering the girl. Perhaps Pierced Girl had a really ugly tattoo, and it embarrasses her to talk about it. What ever the reason though, Biker Teacher was worried. The conversation was taking a turn for the worse. Luckily he remembered Mr. Esquire's last bit of advice. A brilliant conversationalist would be able to keep everyone in the conversation. If someone was being left out, a simple question would help to bring them back in.
The Biker Teacher looked at the old man sitting on the next table. "Hey you! What the hell you looking at?" The old man looked frightened and confused. Pierced Girl's lower jaw hit the floor.
Mr. Esquire's advice failed to work. "Stupid Mr. Esquire, and stupid advice," Biker Teacher thought to himself.
"I have to get back to work," Pierced Girl declared and she hurried to gather her things.
"Would it be ok if I asked you out for coffee again some time?" asked the Biker Teacher.
"Yeah. Sure. Whatever. I'm in the yellow-pages," Pierced Girl's voice dripped with sarcasm.
Luckily the Biker Teacher was also absent the day they taught sarcasm. He sprang to his feet, pumped his fist, and shouted, "Yes!" Then he pranced to the door filled with amore.
Once inside, the Biker Teacher surveyed the area. He carefully studied each book monger he saw. He was there specifically to look for one particular monger. Panning his view from right to left, the Biker Teacher searched for his prey. Aha, he spotted her.
Pierced Girl had her shoulder-length raven hair in two ponytails. She wore a black dress which seemed to be systematically torn vertically along the hem. She had a pierce brow and a lip ring. Biker Teacher wondered if perhaps she got her fashion cues from the movie Beetlejuice.
Now Biker Teacher is known for his wit and charm. However, he suffers from chronic shyness. He was diagnosed with this affliction after he realized that he resembled Goofy more than Mickey. So although he could think of a million things to say at any given point in time, he could never bring himself to actually say anything. That is, until today.
Biker Teacher's friend, Mr. Esquire, had given him several tips on the art of conversation. Mr. Esquire is a successful attorney. As everyone knows, attorneys need to be able to blow a lot of hot air in order to survive. That's because once they pass the bar, they sell their souls to Satan, and the empty cavity that used to house their souls now house fire and brimstone. If the attorney was not able to expel the heat of hades, they would suffer a core melt down much like Chernobyl.
Biker Teacher chuckled to himself, then realized he looked like a fool laughing to himself, so he soldiered on. He approached the lovely Pierced Girl and attempted to start a dialog.
"Hi. I just recently learned how to read. I've managed to get through several of Dr. Seuss's books and now I'm looking for something meatier. A friend suggested something by Terry Hatchet. Or Lachet. Was it Matchet?"
"Pratchett," Pierced Girl corrected.
"Yes, Pratchett. That's the ticket." Biker Teacher really did know it was Pratchett. He just feigned stupidity for the sake of starting a conversation. "Can you show me where his books are?" Biker Teacher asked.
"Sure. Follow me," Pierced Girl said as she gestured Biker Teacher to follow by curling a single digit. He noticed that the single digit was not only clean and well manicured, but it had an appealing set of proportions. Then he wondered why he was so fascinated by a finger. "Here they are," Pierced Girl pointed to a selection of books on a shelf at shoulder height. She really did have a lovely finger.
"Thank you. Now this may sound a bit forward, but I figure sometimes you need to take a chance. If that there cash register prints out a coupon for the Starbucks, could I buy you a coffee?"
"And what if it doesn't print out a coupon?" Pierced Girl giggled.
"Um, juice ok?"
Pierced girl let out a laugh and a half snort. She caught herself just before she fully snorted. "It's about time for my break anyway. I'll meet you at the Starbucks in five minutes. Get me something strong."
The coupon read: Take 30% off your next purchase of Folk Music CDs. The Biker Teacher didn't care. He was way too elated. The fat-guy-with-curly-hair could have rung him up for an entire encyclopedia set and the Biker Teacher wouldn't have noticed. He waltzed over to the next door Starbucks. He literally waltzed. Well, not so much a waltz, but an attempt at something resembling a dance. Biker Teacher was absent the day they taught grace.
A few minutes went by and the Pierced Girl arrived and sat next to him. He handed her a Latte. He had a fruit smoothie for himself. He was concerned about staining his teeth.
Now the pressure was on for the Biker Teacher. He managed to get the Pierced Girl to have coffee with him, but now he has to make a good impression in a short amount of time. He remembered Mr. Esquire's suggestion about looking for her choices on a Staff Picks.
"I didn't see any books under your name on the Staff Picks list," said the Biker Teacher.
"Oh. I didn't list any books. I did list a few CDs I like," replied the Pierced Girl.
"Ah. I've been meaning to expand my music library. What did you pick? Maybe I could buy it."
"AFI"
The Biker Teacher heard of this band before. "Aren't they a punk rock band? Why do you listen to crap like that?"
And there was a moment of silence. Biker Teacher realized he said something inappropriate, but he wasn't sure what. He thought back to something else that Mr. Esquire suggested. Mr. Esquire noted that females like to talk about themselves. It would be a good idea to get the topic of conversation focused on the girl, and to let her talk. This was a good idea. If Pierced Girl was doing the talking, and Biker Teacher tried his best to look interested, there should be little chance for more Hoof-in-Mouth disease. The Biker Teacher tried again.
"Errr, ummm. I've been meaning to ask, what ethnicity are you? I mean, you're very pretty, and I'm curious as to where you got that rather large nose of yours."
Pierced Girl seemed taken aback. Her body stiffened as she shifted away from the table. She seemed agitated. Biker Teacher was starting to worry. How could the conversation be going all wrong? Didn't he get good advice from Mr. Esquire? Wait a tick. Mr. Esquire mentioned that since Pierced Girl has piercings, she may have tattoos, and that could lead to more conversation.
"I'm sorry. That came out wrong. Please forget what I said. I love your piercings, by the way. Normally I think they look disgusting, but on you, they look great. You wouldn't happen to have any tattoos? Perhaps a small one on your inner thigh? Or even a bitch patch on your back?"
The corners of Pierced Girl's mouth turned south as she scowled. Biker Teacher is good at reading people. He noticed that something was bothering the girl. Perhaps Pierced Girl had a really ugly tattoo, and it embarrasses her to talk about it. What ever the reason though, Biker Teacher was worried. The conversation was taking a turn for the worse. Luckily he remembered Mr. Esquire's last bit of advice. A brilliant conversationalist would be able to keep everyone in the conversation. If someone was being left out, a simple question would help to bring them back in.
The Biker Teacher looked at the old man sitting on the next table. "Hey you! What the hell you looking at?" The old man looked frightened and confused. Pierced Girl's lower jaw hit the floor.
Mr. Esquire's advice failed to work. "Stupid Mr. Esquire, and stupid advice," Biker Teacher thought to himself.
"I have to get back to work," Pierced Girl declared and she hurried to gather her things.
"Would it be ok if I asked you out for coffee again some time?" asked the Biker Teacher.
"Yeah. Sure. Whatever. I'm in the yellow-pages," Pierced Girl's voice dripped with sarcasm.
Luckily the Biker Teacher was also absent the day they taught sarcasm. He sprang to his feet, pumped his fist, and shouted, "Yes!" Then he pranced to the door filled with amore.
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