Ok, this is going to seem a bit strange, and sometimes I think I have the mentality of a 13 year old girl, but does anyone else ever feel sorta weird when you're checking out the cucumbers in the grocery store and a member of the opposite sex walks by? Especially if they're hot or something? What's that? No, I'm not talking about the cucumbers being hot. Mmm, ok, I'm the only one. Just checkin'.
Just finished off quite the interesting weekend. Notes:
- If you're walking around in Claddaugh, look out for flying shoes. Not kidding. Was running around Canton Square on Sunday, trying to find some friends, and it turned out that one of them was hit in the jaw by a shoe ... while in the bar. The shoe tosser - a lovely young lady who looked like she walked right out of an ad for White Trash Illustrated - was arrested and taken away, complete with "What'd I do?" crying/blubbering for extra entertainment. The shoe 'catcher' was eventually ok and seen doing JellO shots the next night.
- I've come to the conclusion that the "do you need someone to walk you home?" line to women from my gym is just not going to work. Strike three. The sad thing is, it's not really a line - I am genuinely concerned about their individual welfares. Stop snickering.
- I have no idea what I did on Friday. I might remember in a few paragraphs, but it's a long, long time ago. Holiday weekends can seem like entire months sometimes.
- If you drink enough and use that as dinner every night, you can lose a lot of weight in a holiday weekend. Got on the scale this morning ... 7 pounds lighter than Thursday. It's a whole new fad diet I've developed. Let's call it Drink Away. Ok, so I need to work on the name.
- File this one under the category of "innocent comments that are taken the wrong way somehow". Or just file it under more stupidity from yours truly. Anyway. One of the nights of the blurry weekend, I was talking to a beautiful woman at one of the bars. Said woman was very well endowed in the ... hmm ... ok, she had big boobs. I was going for the gentlemanly way of saying it, but I obviously botched it, and it's too late to think about this stuff.
Now, I know what you're thinking - you got caught looking at her boobs! ... but I'm not really a boob man, and I do make a point of looking women in the eye when I'm talking to them. ESPECIALLY the ones with big boobs, because I know there are guys out there that talk directly to the breasts. You always wait until there's a ruckus or distraction in the bar (you know, like a shoe flying around) before you check out the cleavage.
[Oh, a quick aside here. If you're talking to a guy, and you're talking about boobs, you can use pretty much ANY word in place of the usual ones, and the guy will know exactly what you're talking about. Any word in the phrase "She had some great [blank]s" will work. Eisenhowers. Whack-a-moles. Jennifer Tillys. Life cereals. Isn't the English language combined with the idea of boobs fun? Um, I think it's time for my pill.]
So, the entire time I'm talking to her, SHE keeps looking down at her breasts. It was kinda odd at first, then it got almost distracting. I almost felt like I was SUPPOSED to be looking at them or something, like I was slacking on my duties, and she was keeping up for me. Finally, I just said to her, "why do you keep looking down at your cleavage?" I guess that wasn't the best question for whatever reason, because she giggled for about 30 seconds, then got up and walked away and didn't come back.
Note to self ... can the walk home offers and the cleavage discussion. I said cans. Heh heh heh.
- I think I need some new male friends. When your guy friends get annoyed with you for calling them to try to get them to come meet single women, that's a problem. As a topper, these are two guys with no game ... in fact, I think they actually drive women away. One of them actually woke up on a Sunday morning a couple of weeks ago with a sub from Royal Farms in his bed. So, in conclusion, they can't meet women themselves, and they get annoyed when you try to introduce them to single, attractive women. I'm not kidding.
- Oh, I remember what I did on Friday. Cripes, now I'm going to get my ass kicked by one of my readers. D'oh!
- I found out the hot neighbor doesn't really like Matthew's Pizza. It's entirely possible she might be a Commie. I'm going to look for propoganda or pictures of Joe Stalin in her house at her next party. Her hotness meter would've went down a point if I didn't see her sunbathing later in the weekend. Instead, I think it went up 2.
- How do you respond to a booty text the next day? Those are always interesting to get at 9 am on a Sunday morning. Um, sorry I missed you, maybe next week?
- Oh, so, after the boob looker walked away, one of her friends comes up and says hello. I reply likewise, and she says "You don't remember my name, do you?" Now, I'm fairly bad with names, but I did remember the BL's name (that's short for Boob Looker, in case you're wondering), so I figured I was doing pretty well. My answer ... "Absolutely! ... um ... not." You know, I said the Absolutely part really loud, and the not part kinda quiet. Yeah, that doesn't work, either. Maybe I should've went with Mulva, for you Seinfeld fans.
- If you're at the Bay Cafe, stay out of the sand. Don't ask why, just do it. Unless you like rats big as cats.
Ok, enough of the weekend talk ... besides, now I can't remember what I did on Saturday. Lordy.
The new Foo Fighters CDs - know 'em ... learn 'em ... live 'em. Good stuff.
I just got the DVD for Step Into Liquid. If you haven't seen it ... man, it's almost a must see. It's about surfing, and it's an amazing movie. Yeah, yeah, I know, I can't watch surfing for very long either unless it involves Keanu trying to act ("I am an F B I AGENT!"), but this movie is visually stunning. Worth a look-see if you get a chance.
A'ight, it's time to get some kip and dreams of lost brain cells ...
Just finished off quite the interesting weekend. Notes:
- If you're walking around in Claddaugh, look out for flying shoes. Not kidding. Was running around Canton Square on Sunday, trying to find some friends, and it turned out that one of them was hit in the jaw by a shoe ... while in the bar. The shoe tosser - a lovely young lady who looked like she walked right out of an ad for White Trash Illustrated - was arrested and taken away, complete with "What'd I do?" crying/blubbering for extra entertainment. The shoe 'catcher' was eventually ok and seen doing JellO shots the next night.
- I've come to the conclusion that the "do you need someone to walk you home?" line to women from my gym is just not going to work. Strike three. The sad thing is, it's not really a line - I am genuinely concerned about their individual welfares. Stop snickering.
- I have no idea what I did on Friday. I might remember in a few paragraphs, but it's a long, long time ago. Holiday weekends can seem like entire months sometimes.
- If you drink enough and use that as dinner every night, you can lose a lot of weight in a holiday weekend. Got on the scale this morning ... 7 pounds lighter than Thursday. It's a whole new fad diet I've developed. Let's call it Drink Away. Ok, so I need to work on the name.
- File this one under the category of "innocent comments that are taken the wrong way somehow". Or just file it under more stupidity from yours truly. Anyway. One of the nights of the blurry weekend, I was talking to a beautiful woman at one of the bars. Said woman was very well endowed in the ... hmm ... ok, she had big boobs. I was going for the gentlemanly way of saying it, but I obviously botched it, and it's too late to think about this stuff.
Now, I know what you're thinking - you got caught looking at her boobs! ... but I'm not really a boob man, and I do make a point of looking women in the eye when I'm talking to them. ESPECIALLY the ones with big boobs, because I know there are guys out there that talk directly to the breasts. You always wait until there's a ruckus or distraction in the bar (you know, like a shoe flying around) before you check out the cleavage.
[Oh, a quick aside here. If you're talking to a guy, and you're talking about boobs, you can use pretty much ANY word in place of the usual ones, and the guy will know exactly what you're talking about. Any word in the phrase "She had some great [blank]s" will work. Eisenhowers. Whack-a-moles. Jennifer Tillys. Life cereals. Isn't the English language combined with the idea of boobs fun? Um, I think it's time for my pill.]
So, the entire time I'm talking to her, SHE keeps looking down at her breasts. It was kinda odd at first, then it got almost distracting. I almost felt like I was SUPPOSED to be looking at them or something, like I was slacking on my duties, and she was keeping up for me. Finally, I just said to her, "why do you keep looking down at your cleavage?" I guess that wasn't the best question for whatever reason, because she giggled for about 30 seconds, then got up and walked away and didn't come back.
Note to self ... can the walk home offers and the cleavage discussion. I said cans. Heh heh heh.
- I think I need some new male friends. When your guy friends get annoyed with you for calling them to try to get them to come meet single women, that's a problem. As a topper, these are two guys with no game ... in fact, I think they actually drive women away. One of them actually woke up on a Sunday morning a couple of weeks ago with a sub from Royal Farms in his bed. So, in conclusion, they can't meet women themselves, and they get annoyed when you try to introduce them to single, attractive women. I'm not kidding.
- Oh, I remember what I did on Friday. Cripes, now I'm going to get my ass kicked by one of my readers. D'oh!
- I found out the hot neighbor doesn't really like Matthew's Pizza. It's entirely possible she might be a Commie. I'm going to look for propoganda or pictures of Joe Stalin in her house at her next party. Her hotness meter would've went down a point if I didn't see her sunbathing later in the weekend. Instead, I think it went up 2.
- How do you respond to a booty text the next day? Those are always interesting to get at 9 am on a Sunday morning. Um, sorry I missed you, maybe next week?
- Oh, so, after the boob looker walked away, one of her friends comes up and says hello. I reply likewise, and she says "You don't remember my name, do you?" Now, I'm fairly bad with names, but I did remember the BL's name (that's short for Boob Looker, in case you're wondering), so I figured I was doing pretty well. My answer ... "Absolutely! ... um ... not." You know, I said the Absolutely part really loud, and the not part kinda quiet. Yeah, that doesn't work, either. Maybe I should've went with Mulva, for you Seinfeld fans.
- If you're at the Bay Cafe, stay out of the sand. Don't ask why, just do it. Unless you like rats big as cats.
Ok, enough of the weekend talk ... besides, now I can't remember what I did on Saturday. Lordy.
The new Foo Fighters CDs - know 'em ... learn 'em ... live 'em. Good stuff.
I just got the DVD for Step Into Liquid. If you haven't seen it ... man, it's almost a must see. It's about surfing, and it's an amazing movie. Yeah, yeah, I know, I can't watch surfing for very long either unless it involves Keanu trying to act ("I am an F B I AGENT!"), but this movie is visually stunning. Worth a look-see if you get a chance.
A'ight, it's time to get some kip and dreams of lost brain cells ...
posted by AxnJxn at 9:26 PM
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