I went to the mall today. Yeah, I'm still under the weather, but I still had to go. I needed to pick up a gift for a grab bag. I ended up wandering into Macy's and decided I should check out some cologne.
I haven't bought cologne in a while, but I did look some up on the old intraweb. Lo and behold, several of the colognes listed on askmen.com were on the counter. So I grabbed some cards and started spraying. A cute Asian counter girl offered assistance, but I declined.
To let my nose recover from the cologne sniffing, I walked around the store and found a nice box of chocolates for my grab bag. I walked back to the perfume counter to find the cute girl waiting.
"Can I ring you up for that," she asked.
"In a bit. I'm interested in getting some cologne," I replied.
"Any particular one?"
"I was thinking about the Cool Water."
The cute girl finds the tester bottle and we try some on my wrist. It smelled a bit fruity and playful on my skin, so I start having second thoughts about this scent. I asked the cute girl for her opinion.
"It smells nice. Is that the one you want?"
"I don't know. It's been a long time since I bought cologne so I'm not sure what I'm looking for."
"Oh? What did you used to wear?"
"Polo. How about you pick something for me?"
"Hmmmm. I like these," and she pulled out three bottles. Then she started searching for cards. Her coworker was wrestling with the plastic shrink wrap the cards come in. Once they were free, the cute girl grabbed three and sprayed the first one.
"Hmmm," I nodded. The cute girl sprayed the second.
"Um, I can't smell a thing. Might be because I'm sick," I said. The cute girl laughed then went behind the counter to get a bag of coffee beans. "No really, I am a bit sick," I declared again only to hear her laugh again. Then she sprayed the final bottle.
"OK, this one smells a bit fruity."
The cute girl removed the last bottle from the line up. Out of the two remaining, I asked her which was her favorite. I figure a woman would have a better opinion of what smells good on a man than a man himself.
"I like this one. Can I try it on your other wrist," the cute girl asked.
"Sure." And she sprayed my wrist. She sniffed my wrists and declared that it was the better scent.
"Yeah. I like this one, but I don't want to make the decision myself," the cute girl said. I looked around, hoping to grab another female as a smell tester. Unfortunately, the only females around were of a nice, tender age that would get me arrested as a sex offender. The cute girl must have read my mind and she started looking for another available counter girl. A cosmetics girl came around and asked the cute girl what was up.
"Can you tell us which one you prefer," the cute girl asked the cosmetics girl, who then sniffed my wrists.
"I like this one," the cosmetics girl said as she pointed to the wrist that smelled of the scent the cute girl chose.
"Alrighty then. I'll take it."
"OK, this one comes in a gift pack," said the cute girl as she dug through a pyramid of gift packs. Eventually she found none. "I'm sorry. Looks like we're out of the gift pack."
"What came in the gift pack?"
"Shower gel. . ."
"OK, that's a bit too gay for me. I don't need the gift pack."
The cute girl giggled and got out a regular bottle. "Would you like to put this on your Macy's card?"
"No thanks."
"Would you like to sign up for a Macy's card?"
"I actually have one, but I just don't know what I did with it."
The cute girl giggled and said, "I can ring it up on your card through a search if you want."
"Nah. That's OK. I'll just use my regular card."
The cute girl rang up my bottle of Armani Mania and box of chocolates.
"Thank you very much," the cute girl said as she handed me my card and receipt.
"Thank you. . .," I tried to read her nametag.
"Shaeja"
"Shaeja. Thank you Shaeja."
"You're welcome."
"And thank you for making me smell like two different people."
(Giggles)"You're welcome. Have a good evening."
"You too. Enjoy the rest of your night."
So now I have cologne. I am one step closer to being a metrosexual.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Back to the Beach
It's been about 10 years since I went to the beach to actually get in the water. So when the Band Teacher told me to go with her, I was a bit apprehensive. I mean, I'd have to get mostly naked in public. I haven't been naked in public since my stint as a stunt flasher. But the chance to ogle mostly naked women won out.
This is the view of the ocean from where we were sitting. It's at Poipu, Kauai.
You can't see the palm trees and pavilions behind us.
Once on the beach, I immediately began to warm up with some beers.
And I started to look for female butts. Sorry the picture quality is so poor. I have a crappy cell phone.
Lucky the BT is so cool. She said her cell phone camera was better than mine, so she tried to take some pics for me. She has lousy tastes though.
Beached whale?
Screw this. I'll just take a pic of the BT and post that up instead.
"Oh no. Don't post that pic on your blog. It makes me look fat," said the BT.
WHAT? where the hell is the fat? In your toes?
During this time, Riley was out on his lunch date. I had been egging him on all day yesterday, saying when I see his date, I'm going to hit on her soooo bad. I only did that so he would get off his ass and initiate a date with the poor girl. As proof that the girl did survive initial contact with the entity known as Riley, he sent me this pic. Of course, it could be a man in a wig.
After the beach, the BT and I headed off to a bar and grill for lunch. It's the same one where I hit on a waitress a couple of weeks ago. This time I didn't hit on any waitresses. A friend told me I shouldn't hit on the rest since they do share stories, and I would become famous.
Instead, I called over my waitress and said, "can I get your opinion on something?"
"Sure," she replied.
"My friend sent me this pic of his date. Does she look thirty-# to you?" I showed her the pic on my phone.
"No. Wait. No. She doesn't look thirty-#."
"That's what I thought. Hey, can I take a picture of you?"
"Well, I usually don't like how I look in photos, but ok," she said as she corrected her posture.
"Actually, let's take a picture together." I handed my phone to the BT.
She's right. She was way more attractive in person. The backlighting hurt the pic. And you can't see how great her legs looked. She said she was a runner. I believe her.
The BT said we should do this again next week. If I do, I'm buying a better camera.
This is the view of the ocean from where we were sitting. It's at Poipu, Kauai.
You can't see the palm trees and pavilions behind us.
Once on the beach, I immediately began to warm up with some beers.
And I started to look for female butts. Sorry the picture quality is so poor. I have a crappy cell phone.
Lucky the BT is so cool. She said her cell phone camera was better than mine, so she tried to take some pics for me. She has lousy tastes though.
Beached whale?
Screw this. I'll just take a pic of the BT and post that up instead.
"Oh no. Don't post that pic on your blog. It makes me look fat," said the BT.
WHAT? where the hell is the fat? In your toes?
During this time, Riley was out on his lunch date. I had been egging him on all day yesterday, saying when I see his date, I'm going to hit on her soooo bad. I only did that so he would get off his ass and initiate a date with the poor girl. As proof that the girl did survive initial contact with the entity known as Riley, he sent me this pic. Of course, it could be a man in a wig.
After the beach, the BT and I headed off to a bar and grill for lunch. It's the same one where I hit on a waitress a couple of weeks ago. This time I didn't hit on any waitresses. A friend told me I shouldn't hit on the rest since they do share stories, and I would become famous.
Instead, I called over my waitress and said, "can I get your opinion on something?"
"Sure," she replied.
"My friend sent me this pic of his date. Does she look thirty-# to you?" I showed her the pic on my phone.
"No. Wait. No. She doesn't look thirty-#."
"That's what I thought. Hey, can I take a picture of you?"
"Well, I usually don't like how I look in photos, but ok," she said as she corrected her posture.
"Actually, let's take a picture together." I handed my phone to the BT.
She's right. She was way more attractive in person. The backlighting hurt the pic. And you can't see how great her legs looked. She said she was a runner. I believe her.
The BT said we should do this again next week. If I do, I'm buying a better camera.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Two Turkeys on a Ride
Squiggy the sex offender flashes for Lauren.
"Great. Now we're trapped in here," said Gsxrgirrrl in a non-ending string of complaints.
Gsxrgirrrl found a dandelion to blow. In a related incident, Squiggy got pelted by dandelion seeds and spittle.
Squiggy still can't wear Women's Small.
"But," he said . . .
Gsxrgirrrl collapses after riding one handed for 20 minutes holding her fairing then wrenching it back on. "My butt looks big," she proclaimed.
Monday, November 19, 2007
I Should Not Be Allowed Near Women
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?)
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?)
Monday, September 24, 2007
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.
"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.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
God Strikes Again
This morning I tried to call the Pharmacist before I went mountain biking.
(cellphone ringing)
Pharmacist: Hello?
Me: Hi, it's Squiggy...
Pharmacist: Hello?
Me: Hi. This is Squiggy. The Band Teacher's friend...
Pharmacist: Who is this?
Me: The Band Teacher's friend...
Pharmacist: I can't hear you. I'm having bad reception. Hang on a sec...
(call ended)
God: Take that, ya mutha (snickers)
(cellphone ringing)
Pharmacist: Hello?
Me: Hi, it's Squiggy...
Pharmacist: Hello?
Me: Hi. This is Squiggy. The Band Teacher's friend...
Pharmacist: Who is this?
Me: The Band Teacher's friend...
Pharmacist: I can't hear you. I'm having bad reception. Hang on a sec...
(call ended)
God: Take that, ya mutha (snickers)
Friday, July 20, 2007
God Said Squiggy Can't Be Happy
A couple of weeks ago, the Band Teacher introduced me to one of her friends. We'll call her the Pharmacist. I found her to be rather cute and intelligent. However, me being me, I didn't make any advances.
Of course, you need to remember that every woman I found myself attracted to has some serious issue. Two girls turned out to be lesbians. Another turned out to be really a guy.
Anyway, the Band Teacher and I went to the movies last night. I was hoping the Pharmacist would come, but seeing as we were going to the last show, it was a long shot. Throughout the evening, while shopping and eating, I kept bringing up the Pharmacist. This kind of grated the Band Teacher's nerves. She was like, "just go over to her work place and ask her to lunch. Some girls actually like the spontaneity."
BTW, this is making me excited:
So after about 10 hours of convincing, I decided I would ask the Pharmacist to lunch. I got up this morning, stoked my courage, and drove to the mall. I went in to the pharmacy.
Me: Hi, is **** working?
Helen, my brother's co-worker's wife: No, not yet. She works the evening shift today.
Me: Figures. I was going to ask her to lunch.
God: (chuckles)
Helen: Oh, that's nice! She should be in soon. Why don't you come back and ask?
I go off to another store to buy shoes for my trip. I return to the pharmacy about 40 minutes later. Lucky me, I see the Pharmacist working at the window, so I don't have to announce my intentions to everyone working.
So I chatted with the Pharmacist for a bit. I made her laugh a few times. Then I took the leap.
Me: I came by here earlier looking for you. I wanted to ask you to lunch.
Pharmacist: Oh. I just got in about a half hour ago. I don't get a break for about 4 hours. (The clock in the store reads 11:55)
Me: So what is that, like 5? (wtf? All of a sudden I can't do math.)
Pharmacist: About 3:45-4:00. I'll call you. You have a cellphone?
Me: Yeah. My number is ***-****.
Pharmacist: OK. I'll give you a call.
God: (mutter mutter)
Given I had time to kill, I figured I would do more shopping, and also go to lunch with my brother. Of course, I only ate a wee bit. I had to buy some shorts since I only have two everyday shorts and I don't think running shorts would look good in Connecticut. I also planned on buying a new bike seat, and a Green Day CD that the Band Teacher was looking for.
Right after I picked out a pair of shorts, my phone rang.
Pharmacist: Hey, my co-worker can't come in today, so I need to take my lunch early before the others finish work. I'm just going to grab something here. Sorry.
God: Haha! Take that, ya fukker! (pumping fist in the air)
Then the sky blackened and the clouds opened. Torrents of rain came crashing down. Squiggy knelt on the ground, soaking wet, with outstretched arms reaching for the heavens screaming, "Why?!? Wwwwhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyy?!?"
Something like that.
Of course, you need to remember that every woman I found myself attracted to has some serious issue. Two girls turned out to be lesbians. Another turned out to be really a guy.
Anyway, the Band Teacher and I went to the movies last night. I was hoping the Pharmacist would come, but seeing as we were going to the last show, it was a long shot. Throughout the evening, while shopping and eating, I kept bringing up the Pharmacist. This kind of grated the Band Teacher's nerves. She was like, "just go over to her work place and ask her to lunch. Some girls actually like the spontaneity."
BTW, this is making me excited:
So after about 10 hours of convincing, I decided I would ask the Pharmacist to lunch. I got up this morning, stoked my courage, and drove to the mall. I went in to the pharmacy.
Me: Hi, is **** working?
Helen, my brother's co-worker's wife: No, not yet. She works the evening shift today.
Me: Figures. I was going to ask her to lunch.
God: (chuckles)
Helen: Oh, that's nice! She should be in soon. Why don't you come back and ask?
I go off to another store to buy shoes for my trip. I return to the pharmacy about 40 minutes later. Lucky me, I see the Pharmacist working at the window, so I don't have to announce my intentions to everyone working.
So I chatted with the Pharmacist for a bit. I made her laugh a few times. Then I took the leap.
Me: I came by here earlier looking for you. I wanted to ask you to lunch.
Pharmacist: Oh. I just got in about a half hour ago. I don't get a break for about 4 hours. (The clock in the store reads 11:55)
Me: So what is that, like 5? (wtf? All of a sudden I can't do math.)
Pharmacist: About 3:45-4:00. I'll call you. You have a cellphone?
Me: Yeah. My number is ***-****.
Pharmacist: OK. I'll give you a call.
God: (mutter mutter)
Given I had time to kill, I figured I would do more shopping, and also go to lunch with my brother. Of course, I only ate a wee bit. I had to buy some shorts since I only have two everyday shorts and I don't think running shorts would look good in Connecticut. I also planned on buying a new bike seat, and a Green Day CD that the Band Teacher was looking for.
Right after I picked out a pair of shorts, my phone rang.
Pharmacist: Hey, my co-worker can't come in today, so I need to take my lunch early before the others finish work. I'm just going to grab something here. Sorry.
God: Haha! Take that, ya fukker! (pumping fist in the air)
Then the sky blackened and the clouds opened. Torrents of rain came crashing down. Squiggy knelt on the ground, soaking wet, with outstretched arms reaching for the heavens screaming, "Why?!? Wwwwhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyy?!?"
Something like that.
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