From the World of Weird Stuff ... or the WWS ... I know two women named Dale, and they are two of the hottest women I know. Just tossin' that out there to chew on.
Speaking of WWS, World Wide Suicide by Pearl Jam is the greatest workout song ever. I will not debate this. Thanks for playing.
Speakin' of chewin' ... women drive me crazy in one major way. No, it's not that I don't understand them or that they're bad drivers ... I do understand them, and I only know one that's a bad driver and she claims to be reformed (I'm afraid to ride with her again, so I don't know for sure if this is true). They drive me crazy because they flirt and wiggle and do their feminine wares things so that I'll buy that sucky mofo cardboard flap tastes like Roseanne pizza that's on the Square. Pleh. Pleh, I say! Ok, ok, so it's decent when drunk, but it's horrendous the next morning. Let's just move on, cuz I'm working myself into a lather.
Ok, I'm sure you're all sitting on pins and needles waiting for the birthday night blog. First of all, let me just note that the Hot Neighbor made me a huge cake, with two layers, M&Ms, Reese's and it's chocolate. Eep. Naturally, in my head, I'm adding up the calories and trying to figure out how I can eat the whole thing and burn it all off at the same time. I figure if I start jogging now, I should have it off by fall. So, who needs cake?! Did I mention it's chocolate?
To the night. Started at the Bay Cafe, naturally. Here's the fun. So, it's 2 for 1 drinks on Friday night, which is usually bad enough in itself, but last night, everyone's buying me drinks for my birthday as well. Wow. I think I was seeing quadruple before the sun went down. Believe me ... seeing quadruple at the Bay Cafe isn't always a good thing, depending on who is in front of you.
A quick aside, speaking of quadruple. One of my notes from the night - "Paris Hilton girls". Four women at the BC, all working on their Paris impressions. I thought there was a contest going on or something. Have I mentioned how much I dislike Paris? I have? Ok, well, then let's just get on with it.
After the BC, we headed to Granite for some food. See, once I start drinking, I don't eat. Yeah, I know, part of the problem and all that, but it just slows me down. So, my peeps are eating and I'm bouncing around the bar talking to women ... in general, being an annoyance ... but I do manage to find both Chrissy Hot and Leah Hot in the corner. Bingo!
Next stop ... The Ritz. You heard me. For those that don't know, The Ritz is a ... uh ... gentleman's club. Eh, we're all adults here ... it's a strip club! Here's the thing. If I'm with a hottie, I totally love strip clubs. When I'm by myself or not with a female, they suck. Suck, I say. Just not my thing. The whole time we're there, I'm thinking about the "real" women I could be hitting on at the "normal" bars. It didn't really help that one of the dancers reminded me of an ex, either. Never a good thing.
So, we split, head back to the Square, I run into CH and LH again, stumble around the Square for a bit and find myself in Portside near the end of the night. Yeah, I know, I left some stuff out there. Know why? Cuz I can't remember it! Wonderful. At Portside, Bo decides to give me a shot for my birthday. He tries real hard to get me to drink Grand Marnier, but I managed to avoid that and stick with vodka. LH and a friend came very, very, very close to getting me on the dance floor. I think I was actually standing on it at one point, but I basically dance like Fonzie ... which means I stand there and allow women to dance around me. That's not necessarily a bad idea, either.
You know it's an interesting night when it's 3 in the morning and you're throwing pebbles at someone's window. I'm not really sure why I didn't use the cell phone to call her, either. Eh, what's more romantic than rock throwing?
Last night was a jumble bumble. I managed to lose my favorite necklace, have a late night chicken salad sandwich (you read that right), and at one point I was ... well, we'll let the text I received explain it:
"Put your shoes on right now! And get on the sidewalk! Where are you?"
Indeed. I think I'm just going to let that one sit there. Is there really a need to explain it?
Is there anything better than getting advice on women from drunk girls in a bar? It's best to get it from a group of girls, too, because there are always 3 types:
- the one who was recently dumped, hates men, and will go off on a rambling tangent about something unrelated to what you were talking about
- the one that's ready to get married and will say anything you want to hear
- the one that actually gives decent advice ... she's likely married or has a boyfriend and is usually way hot, to the point that you won't care about the advice, as long as she keeps talking to you
Mmm hmm. Now I have to go find a new necklace ...
Speaking of WWS, World Wide Suicide by Pearl Jam is the greatest workout song ever. I will not debate this. Thanks for playing.
Speakin' of chewin' ... women drive me crazy in one major way. No, it's not that I don't understand them or that they're bad drivers ... I do understand them, and I only know one that's a bad driver and she claims to be reformed (I'm afraid to ride with her again, so I don't know for sure if this is true). They drive me crazy because they flirt and wiggle and do their feminine wares things so that I'll buy that sucky mofo cardboard flap tastes like Roseanne pizza that's on the Square. Pleh. Pleh, I say! Ok, ok, so it's decent when drunk, but it's horrendous the next morning. Let's just move on, cuz I'm working myself into a lather.
Ok, I'm sure you're all sitting on pins and needles waiting for the birthday night blog. First of all, let me just note that the Hot Neighbor made me a huge cake, with two layers, M&Ms, Reese's and it's chocolate. Eep. Naturally, in my head, I'm adding up the calories and trying to figure out how I can eat the whole thing and burn it all off at the same time. I figure if I start jogging now, I should have it off by fall. So, who needs cake?! Did I mention it's chocolate?
To the night. Started at the Bay Cafe, naturally. Here's the fun. So, it's 2 for 1 drinks on Friday night, which is usually bad enough in itself, but last night, everyone's buying me drinks for my birthday as well. Wow. I think I was seeing quadruple before the sun went down. Believe me ... seeing quadruple at the Bay Cafe isn't always a good thing, depending on who is in front of you.
A quick aside, speaking of quadruple. One of my notes from the night - "Paris Hilton girls". Four women at the BC, all working on their Paris impressions. I thought there was a contest going on or something. Have I mentioned how much I dislike Paris? I have? Ok, well, then let's just get on with it.
After the BC, we headed to Granite for some food. See, once I start drinking, I don't eat. Yeah, I know, part of the problem and all that, but it just slows me down. So, my peeps are eating and I'm bouncing around the bar talking to women ... in general, being an annoyance ... but I do manage to find both Chrissy Hot and Leah Hot in the corner. Bingo!
Next stop ... The Ritz. You heard me. For those that don't know, The Ritz is a ... uh ... gentleman's club. Eh, we're all adults here ... it's a strip club! Here's the thing. If I'm with a hottie, I totally love strip clubs. When I'm by myself or not with a female, they suck. Suck, I say. Just not my thing. The whole time we're there, I'm thinking about the "real" women I could be hitting on at the "normal" bars. It didn't really help that one of the dancers reminded me of an ex, either. Never a good thing.
So, we split, head back to the Square, I run into CH and LH again, stumble around the Square for a bit and find myself in Portside near the end of the night. Yeah, I know, I left some stuff out there. Know why? Cuz I can't remember it! Wonderful. At Portside, Bo decides to give me a shot for my birthday. He tries real hard to get me to drink Grand Marnier, but I managed to avoid that and stick with vodka. LH and a friend came very, very, very close to getting me on the dance floor. I think I was actually standing on it at one point, but I basically dance like Fonzie ... which means I stand there and allow women to dance around me. That's not necessarily a bad idea, either.
You know it's an interesting night when it's 3 in the morning and you're throwing pebbles at someone's window. I'm not really sure why I didn't use the cell phone to call her, either. Eh, what's more romantic than rock throwing?
Last night was a jumble bumble. I managed to lose my favorite necklace, have a late night chicken salad sandwich (you read that right), and at one point I was ... well, we'll let the text I received explain it:
"Put your shoes on right now! And get on the sidewalk! Where are you?"
Indeed. I think I'm just going to let that one sit there. Is there really a need to explain it?
Is there anything better than getting advice on women from drunk girls in a bar? It's best to get it from a group of girls, too, because there are always 3 types:
- the one who was recently dumped, hates men, and will go off on a rambling tangent about something unrelated to what you were talking about
- the one that's ready to get married and will say anything you want to hear
- the one that actually gives decent advice ... she's likely married or has a boyfriend and is usually way hot, to the point that you won't care about the advice, as long as she keeps talking to you
Mmm hmm. Now I have to go find a new necklace ...
posted by AxnJxn at 12:49 PM
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