Well, I finally did it. I found the perfect balance between the Nice Girl and my raging hormones. If all goes according to plan I will have a new boyfriend in a couple of weeks.
About a week ago I had a party and my neighbour and his friends popped in for a few minutes. One of his friends was yummmmmy. Okay, I know what you're thinking, another neighbour story?? I can't help it if my neighbours and their friends, brothers, fathers, and goldfish find me irresistible, so shut up and just keep reading. We had a few minutes of flirtatious conversation and nothing much came of it, especially since although he was gorgeous and had an accent that made me wet myself, I was more concerned with the other guests at my party and the amount of glass they were breaking. Hottie McAccent went back to my neighbour's place and that was that. That night, in keeping with my "elegant slut" status, I ended up having sex with my OTHER neighbour's best friend...again. Fuck. Actually thanks to Aunt Flo we didn't ACTUALLY have sex, so the next day when other neighbour asked "did you bang my best friend?", I was able to answer "no I did not" without my nose shooting out like I just snorted five rails of Cialis in Gepetto's workshop. I felt no need to add, "but I licked his balls while we both masturbated."
Anyhoo, back to Hottie McAccent. So three days after my party there was another party in the building, and guess who showed up? Well of course me...as soon as I hear the word "party" I grab the champagne and Silly String and I'm on my way. And...Hottie McAccent. The second I saw him I remembered why I was so attracted to him in the first place. Seriously. He's gorgeous, smart, affectionate, and just the perfect amount of controlling. Anytime any guy talked to me he would come and touch my leg or rub my arm or something, clearly giving off the "she's mine" vibe. I love that. In fact, I wouldn't have been the least bit offended if he whipped out his penis and peed all around my section of the couch. That night I kissed him a few times, and he asked me to go downstairs to my place, but I couldn't go. I had too many of my own friends that I invited to the party, and I didn't want to bail on everyone. Besides, we just met, geez! What, did he think we were going to go have sex or something? What would ever give him that idea? So after a few amazing kisses and hours of conversation, he left...with my number. That's the first time in months I've watched a guy walk away from me with blue balls.
The next day he asked me to go on a date. YES! I was very excited, and we went out last night. I'm not going to share the details of the amazing date or how I'm already imagining myself converting to Judaism and marrying this man, let's just skip to the part where I manage to show some restraint and act like a Nice Girl...ish. Thanks to the fact that I only had 2 glasses of wine on our date, I still had some sense about me, and I knew I wanted to see this man again. I was NOT going to have sex with him. 20 minutes into our make-out session I could see where this was going...directly into my vagina. So I tell him "I like you and I want to see you again so I don't want to do anything too fast." This was about the most shocking thing I've ever said; even more shocking is that I meant it. So we made out for a while longer and we were both getting far too excited. In an attempt to ensure my pants stayed on, I figured I would take care of him. So down I went. 10 minutes later, after being told I was "amazing" about seven times, I swallowed and came up for air. I have actually never done that before for a guy that wasn't my boyfriend, but I figured I would bend the rules since this was a special occasion: mine and my husband's first date. After my "amazing" performance, I laid back down and we cuddled and talked for about half an hour. It was late and I had to go, and he kept saying he didn't want me to go - nice. Then, something wonderful happened. Hottie McAccent asked me out on a second date. That's right, whilst on the first date, I was asked on a second one, and even given a time and place. Wow.
This is it. I've discovered the secret to a man's heart. Blowjobs.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
From Doggie Bag to Barf Bag
My mother is always telling me to be less picky and to give guys a chance that I'm not immediately attracted to because "you never know." What a crock of shit. This is what happens when you do that:
About a month ago my sister and I were having drinks at one of our favourite restaurants. We sat at the bar so we could flirt with the hot bartenders as per ushe, and about 3 cocktails in a very average and boring guy dressed in a business suit sat next to my sister. Throughout the evening he told us he was a very busy lawyer and lived in the city among other things. While my sister went to the washroom, he took it upon himself to ask me out for drinks sometime. Here was my big chance to volunteer my valuable time for a good cause: Very Unexciting Lawyers/Vagabonds Anonymous, or VULVA. I agreed that we could grab a drink sometime. Whoopdie-frickin'-do. Over the next 2 weeks Vulva texted me several times and seemed rather eager to meet. I was flattered and thought maybe there was something to this VULVA thing. As I get older I find that my mother is almost always right. Perhaps Vulva and I would fall in love and have kids and I would be a happily married mother living in a rich neighbourhood with all our lawyer money. But, this is me and of course that didn't happen.
First of all he wanted to meet on a night that my favourite sports team was playing a huge playoff game. He suggested we go watch the game somewhere. Was he fucking kidding me? I don't even make plans to hang out for 3 hours with people I LIKE, let alone the VULVA spokesmodel that I'd said a total of 20 words to. I agreed anyways so I could get the date over with and enjoy the rest of my weekend. I got to the lounge first. When he showed up a few minutes later, he was in runners. Wow. Impressive. He said "hi" inexpressively and sat down. Hmm. Now I don't expect much, but after 2 weeks of persuing me and making me feel like a gift from Allah, I was expecting maybe a hug, a pat on the back, a high-five even, but nothing. So he awkwardly sits down and orders a beer. Now I may not have chemistry with every guy I agree to go on a date with, but one thing I can always guarantee is that we have a fun time together. But not Vulva. Holy fuck this guy was boring. I had to carry the entire conversation and after an hour I finally gave up. I didn't give a shit and wasn't about to waste any more energy on this dud. He spent more time staring at my rack than my face. I'm sure this may happen a lot, I have a great rack, but please, don't let me catch you for fuck's sake. The way this guy ogled at me you would have thought he had just been released on probation. I tried to block it out of my head by downing copious amounts of vodka.
We ordered dinner and I ate my entire steak and all the side dishes, and Vulva had about 6 bites of his food and asked the server to wrap the rest in a doggie bag. I don't trust a man that doesn't eat. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever met one before. My favourite part of the date was when he finally did decide to speak after 3 Stella Lights. He told me that his best friend was a high school teacher, and he didn't know how he managed those kids. I agreed "Ya, kids are nuts these days with their attitudes, sex, and drugs...yikes"...but he didn't mean that. He corrected me..."Oh, no I mean the way the young girls dress these days you could really get into a lot of trouble." Now I was convinced I was sitting with a pedophile. The second time he decided to speak he told me that he's "not actually a lawyer"...he's a "law student." Now I'm not one to judge, and if he just said that in the first place I wouldn't have cared, but to bring me there under false pretenses was unacceptable. An average boring lawyer? Maybe. An average boring student? No thanks.Throughout the night he asked me several times if he was "creeping me out." If you have to ask, the answer is yes.
I'd had about 5 vodkas and 2 glasses of wine, and Vulva had about 4 beers. The playoff game was coming to a close, thank fucking God. Vulva paid the bill and asked me if I wanted to go to his place for a drink. I was so incredibly shocked that someone could be stupid enough to perceive the notion that anyone would want to prolong this disaster, that I momentarily lost all sense of reality blurted out "sure." WHAT...THE...FUCK...did I just DO??? I immediately started telling him I was pretty tired and I thought we should just have one more drink somewhere close by, but he insisted. I told him okay, but warned him that I was leaving after one drink because I was really tired, (aka my friends were around the corner and I was ready to actually go have a good time, fake-lawyer-free). He agreed and off we went. The entire walk there I was trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of it. Oh well, one drink won't kill me. Unless he is a sex-crazed jailbird and is willing to murder me just to get a peek at the goods. Fuck.
We get there and he immediately asks if he can have "just one kiss." Was this guy for fucking realsies? On what planet does cringing and "I'm tired" mean I'm into you? Fuck. This was all my fault. I should have never agreed to go to this potential house of horrors. Luckily, after I turned him down for a vial kiss, he told me he had heartburn and excused himself. He proceeded to the bathroom where I heard him vomit for the next 5 minutes thanks to the paper-thin structure of his ancient apartment complex. Those 4 beers must have really put this idiot over the edge. I've never been so excited to hear someone vomit. This of course set the scene for my prompt exit. I had my shoes on as he came out of the bathroom, his eyes all red and bloodshot..whew, ya that Stella Light will really hit ya hard, you really gotta be careful there. Fucking lightweight. Anyhoo, shoes on, off I scurried into the sunset, thanking Allah for not allowing me to be murdered by Vulva, who had, over the past 4 hours gone from "fine" to "incredibly creepy."
I felt filthy. I've never felt so filthy without having done a single thing. I needed a scalding hot shower and a body brush stat. So I ran home and did just that...after getting drunk with my friends of course.
Fuck was my mom ever wrong. From now on I'm trusting my gut and only giving hotties a chance.
About a month ago my sister and I were having drinks at one of our favourite restaurants. We sat at the bar so we could flirt with the hot bartenders as per ushe, and about 3 cocktails in a very average and boring guy dressed in a business suit sat next to my sister. Throughout the evening he told us he was a very busy lawyer and lived in the city among other things. While my sister went to the washroom, he took it upon himself to ask me out for drinks sometime. Here was my big chance to volunteer my valuable time for a good cause: Very Unexciting Lawyers/Vagabonds Anonymous, or VULVA. I agreed that we could grab a drink sometime. Whoopdie-frickin'-do. Over the next 2 weeks Vulva texted me several times and seemed rather eager to meet. I was flattered and thought maybe there was something to this VULVA thing. As I get older I find that my mother is almost always right. Perhaps Vulva and I would fall in love and have kids and I would be a happily married mother living in a rich neighbourhood with all our lawyer money. But, this is me and of course that didn't happen.
First of all he wanted to meet on a night that my favourite sports team was playing a huge playoff game. He suggested we go watch the game somewhere. Was he fucking kidding me? I don't even make plans to hang out for 3 hours with people I LIKE, let alone the VULVA spokesmodel that I'd said a total of 20 words to. I agreed anyways so I could get the date over with and enjoy the rest of my weekend. I got to the lounge first. When he showed up a few minutes later, he was in runners. Wow. Impressive. He said "hi" inexpressively and sat down. Hmm. Now I don't expect much, but after 2 weeks of persuing me and making me feel like a gift from Allah, I was expecting maybe a hug, a pat on the back, a high-five even, but nothing. So he awkwardly sits down and orders a beer. Now I may not have chemistry with every guy I agree to go on a date with, but one thing I can always guarantee is that we have a fun time together. But not Vulva. Holy fuck this guy was boring. I had to carry the entire conversation and after an hour I finally gave up. I didn't give a shit and wasn't about to waste any more energy on this dud. He spent more time staring at my rack than my face. I'm sure this may happen a lot, I have a great rack, but please, don't let me catch you for fuck's sake. The way this guy ogled at me you would have thought he had just been released on probation. I tried to block it out of my head by downing copious amounts of vodka.
We ordered dinner and I ate my entire steak and all the side dishes, and Vulva had about 6 bites of his food and asked the server to wrap the rest in a doggie bag. I don't trust a man that doesn't eat. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever met one before. My favourite part of the date was when he finally did decide to speak after 3 Stella Lights. He told me that his best friend was a high school teacher, and he didn't know how he managed those kids. I agreed "Ya, kids are nuts these days with their attitudes, sex, and drugs...yikes"...but he didn't mean that. He corrected me..."Oh, no I mean the way the young girls dress these days you could really get into a lot of trouble." Now I was convinced I was sitting with a pedophile. The second time he decided to speak he told me that he's "not actually a lawyer"...he's a "law student." Now I'm not one to judge, and if he just said that in the first place I wouldn't have cared, but to bring me there under false pretenses was unacceptable. An average boring lawyer? Maybe. An average boring student? No thanks.Throughout the night he asked me several times if he was "creeping me out." If you have to ask, the answer is yes.
I'd had about 5 vodkas and 2 glasses of wine, and Vulva had about 4 beers. The playoff game was coming to a close, thank fucking God. Vulva paid the bill and asked me if I wanted to go to his place for a drink. I was so incredibly shocked that someone could be stupid enough to perceive the notion that anyone would want to prolong this disaster, that I momentarily lost all sense of reality blurted out "sure." WHAT...THE...FUCK...did I just DO??? I immediately started telling him I was pretty tired and I thought we should just have one more drink somewhere close by, but he insisted. I told him okay, but warned him that I was leaving after one drink because I was really tired, (aka my friends were around the corner and I was ready to actually go have a good time, fake-lawyer-free). He agreed and off we went. The entire walk there I was trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of it. Oh well, one drink won't kill me. Unless he is a sex-crazed jailbird and is willing to murder me just to get a peek at the goods. Fuck.
We get there and he immediately asks if he can have "just one kiss." Was this guy for fucking realsies? On what planet does cringing and "I'm tired" mean I'm into you? Fuck. This was all my fault. I should have never agreed to go to this potential house of horrors. Luckily, after I turned him down for a vial kiss, he told me he had heartburn and excused himself. He proceeded to the bathroom where I heard him vomit for the next 5 minutes thanks to the paper-thin structure of his ancient apartment complex. Those 4 beers must have really put this idiot over the edge. I've never been so excited to hear someone vomit. This of course set the scene for my prompt exit. I had my shoes on as he came out of the bathroom, his eyes all red and bloodshot..whew, ya that Stella Light will really hit ya hard, you really gotta be careful there. Fucking lightweight. Anyhoo, shoes on, off I scurried into the sunset, thanking Allah for not allowing me to be murdered by Vulva, who had, over the past 4 hours gone from "fine" to "incredibly creepy."
I felt filthy. I've never felt so filthy without having done a single thing. I needed a scalding hot shower and a body brush stat. So I ran home and did just that...after getting drunk with my friends of course.
Fuck was my mom ever wrong. From now on I'm trusting my gut and only giving hotties a chance.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Don't Fuck Where You Eat
Lately I've been picking up guys that work at my favourite hangouts. You know the deal, you go there a few times, see the same faces, and pretty soon they're using that an excuse to flirt with you and eventually bang you. Well, me. Anyhoo, I've come to the conclusion that this is a very bad idea. Unless I end up falling in love with one of these random idiot DJs, bartenders, waiters, or bouncers and we get married in Bali at sunset, after our sexy shenanigans are over I can't ever go to these places again.
The DJ
The DJ and I dated for about 3 months, which is generally too brief to turn into a psycho...generally...but not for this girl! That's right! I totally fell for the guy and continued to stalk him throughout last summer, earning me level 5, red-alert psycho status with him, his entire group of friends, his co-workers, and the people in charge of his life insurance policy. Don't worry, no animals were harmed during the Summer of Stalking, I simply drunk-texted him repeatedly, tried to seduce him at every opportunity, and wrote a comic book about what an asshole he is and mailed it to him. I know what you're thinking...it's available for $4.95 plus shipping if you provide me with your address.
The Bartender(s)
The bartender was yummy and he made me yummy drinks. I took him home and let him cum on my face. About a month later I went back to his bar in hopes of the opportunity to cum on his face, but he wasn't working. But did I let that get me down? No way! I took home the new bartender. We fooled around a bit, had some fun, and the subject of roommates came up. What you're about to read is exactly why I wish guys couldn't talk...Bartender number 2 was best friends and roomies with Bartender number 1. Oopsie daisies.
The Waiter
Despite the fact that I own scotch older than this guy, the waiter at my favourite sports bar was really sweet and I enjoyed chatting with him on my several visits to the establishment, which is across the street from my apartment. After flirting a few times at the bar, we hung out sober one night, (imagine that), and watched movies and cuddled (cute). There was a good 5 hours of date time before we actually had sex, and when we finally did, it was mind-blowing. I thought for sure this guy would be back for more, particularly because I live across the street from his work so in order to keep things from being awkward we could at the very least remain sex-buddies. Nope. He never called me again, and the next time I went to the sports bar he said hello and seemed happy to see me, but then left out the back door like I was there with my stalker-vision goggles and machete. Please, it was daytime, I only carry those at night. Idiot.
The Bouncer
I just met the bouncer 2 nights ago and he was really nice and immediately started talking about "dating" and what his wedding ring was going to look like. Sappy yes, but it did the trick, I was totally into him. He got my number and asked me to text him so he knew I got home safe (cute). Then the next day he flirt-texted me all day (double-cute). Then last night, he texts me: "Soooo....I just want you to know I just got out of a serious relationship and am not looking for anything heavy, but I think we could have a lot of fun together." Hm. Now normally I'm 100% on-board with sex-deprived men trying to get over their ex-girlfriends, but don't disguise yourself as a sweet guy who wants nothing more but to cuddle and get married and then turn into a freak as soon as I show interest. I told him to beat it. He replied "I think you're beautiful, let me know if you change your mind." Ya for sure...I'll get right on that. Delete.
Off the top of my head I can think of 5 of my ex-favourite places that I can no longer show my face. Unless I join a Jewish Social Group or AA, I'm running out of places to go. I gotta run, it's $1.99 Deal Day at Denny's and haven't fucked the dishwasher yet.
The DJ
The DJ and I dated for about 3 months, which is generally too brief to turn into a psycho...generally...but not for this girl! That's right! I totally fell for the guy and continued to stalk him throughout last summer, earning me level 5, red-alert psycho status with him, his entire group of friends, his co-workers, and the people in charge of his life insurance policy. Don't worry, no animals were harmed during the Summer of Stalking, I simply drunk-texted him repeatedly, tried to seduce him at every opportunity, and wrote a comic book about what an asshole he is and mailed it to him. I know what you're thinking...it's available for $4.95 plus shipping if you provide me with your address.
The Bartender(s)
The bartender was yummy and he made me yummy drinks. I took him home and let him cum on my face. About a month later I went back to his bar in hopes of the opportunity to cum on his face, but he wasn't working. But did I let that get me down? No way! I took home the new bartender. We fooled around a bit, had some fun, and the subject of roommates came up. What you're about to read is exactly why I wish guys couldn't talk...Bartender number 2 was best friends and roomies with Bartender number 1. Oopsie daisies.
The Waiter
Despite the fact that I own scotch older than this guy, the waiter at my favourite sports bar was really sweet and I enjoyed chatting with him on my several visits to the establishment, which is across the street from my apartment. After flirting a few times at the bar, we hung out sober one night, (imagine that), and watched movies and cuddled (cute). There was a good 5 hours of date time before we actually had sex, and when we finally did, it was mind-blowing. I thought for sure this guy would be back for more, particularly because I live across the street from his work so in order to keep things from being awkward we could at the very least remain sex-buddies. Nope. He never called me again, and the next time I went to the sports bar he said hello and seemed happy to see me, but then left out the back door like I was there with my stalker-vision goggles and machete. Please, it was daytime, I only carry those at night. Idiot.
The Bouncer
I just met the bouncer 2 nights ago and he was really nice and immediately started talking about "dating" and what his wedding ring was going to look like. Sappy yes, but it did the trick, I was totally into him. He got my number and asked me to text him so he knew I got home safe (cute). Then the next day he flirt-texted me all day (double-cute). Then last night, he texts me: "Soooo....I just want you to know I just got out of a serious relationship and am not looking for anything heavy, but I think we could have a lot of fun together." Hm. Now normally I'm 100% on-board with sex-deprived men trying to get over their ex-girlfriends, but don't disguise yourself as a sweet guy who wants nothing more but to cuddle and get married and then turn into a freak as soon as I show interest. I told him to beat it. He replied "I think you're beautiful, let me know if you change your mind." Ya for sure...I'll get right on that. Delete.
Off the top of my head I can think of 5 of my ex-favourite places that I can no longer show my face. Unless I join a Jewish Social Group or AA, I'm running out of places to go. I gotta run, it's $1.99 Deal Day at Denny's and haven't fucked the dishwasher yet.
Friday, April 8, 2011
"Excuse Me, Professor, I Have a Question..."
My entire college life I dreamed of seducing one of my Professors. There's something about a passionate, intelligent man that I find irresistible. However, as hard as it is to imagine, I was generally sober for the majority of my class lectures, which makes acting slutty much more awkward. Long story short - I never managed to accomplish my personal goal of earning an 'A' for a scandalous oral exam. With all the random idiots that keep me busy as of late, I haven't had time to mourn the failure of my Professor challenge. Until last Wednesday...
I was at a conference for work last week, (yup, there's actually some sucker that agrees to pay me a salary while I sit at a desk and pretend to be busy between blowjobs and martinis). About 250 of us were staying at a hotel for the week and I didn't know a soul. The first workshop of the day was taught by a Professor of an elite University on the other side of the country. I thought nothing of him as I grabbed my seat and got ready for another snoozefest. But after a few minutes of his talk, I kinda started getting warm feelings in my vagina for him. He was actually becoming...yummy. The 40-something, four-eyed smarty-pants was turning into some kind of tall, handsome genius right before my very eyes. I didn't think too much of it, just that maybe this wasn't so boring after all, and a couple of hours later the workshop ended. Then my mind started buzzing...Professor? Yummy? Tall? Over 20? JACKPOT. I left the conference room with no plot in mind, but I wasn't worried...I never have a plot, shit just seems to happen for me.
That night I planned to meet an acquaintance for dinner. I was delighted when I got to the lobby and my dinner partner wasn't there, but Professor Yummy was. My diaphragm did a back flip as I walked towards him. He said he was meeting the same guy, and we were all going to be having dinner together. I was relieved to discover I'd have 2 hours to seduce him rather than 3 lobby minutes. (We all know I could have closed the deal in 3 minutes, but why show off? It was a small town, I didn't want to shock people too soon). During dinner Professor Yummy was giving off some kind of unspoken energy that just screamed to me that he was on the edge of letting loose. I can't put my finger on a single thing that he said or did, I just have a sixth sense for tall, handsome geniuses that are dying to get hammered and forget they're professional geniuses. He had come to the right place. During dinner I was slamming back beers like Barney Gumble. No respectable man would let a girl out-drink her, right? Right...Professor Yummy fell into my first trap. After his fourth or fifth beer, he started to waver when the waitress asked "another?"...but have no fear, I was quick to take the liberty of replying "yes" for him, since clearly he was having trouble. He didn't argue with me. Good choice.
We all decided to hit the local casino. As we went to order a round of drinks Professor Yummy said he "thinks" he might just get water. Me "thinks" he needs more beer. I told him that when I've had too much to drink, I switch to light beer. True story. He quickly agreed that light beer was clearly the best choice. Checkmate. Professor Yummy wasn't a gambler. He stuck a five in the machine..."Hey Big Spender, Da Da Da Daaa!" I sat next to him and stuck my rent money in the machine. I lost my rent money and he won a couple hundred dollars. He gave me a fifty for being his "good luck charm." I didn't protest. By that time he'd switched to gin and tonics and his glasses had come off...I fucking knew it, this guy hadn't gone crazy since he took a bong hit in 9th grade. After a couple of hours of 'Operation Corrupt Professor,' I felt he was corrupted the perfect amount...drunk, happy, but still sexy as fuck. Unfortunately getting him alone might be challenging since the acquaintance of mine that I originally planned to meet for dinner had morphed into some sexually-deprived sweet-talker who seemed to have forgotten that he had a wife and kids while he hit on me ruthlessly throughout the night. He did not want to leave my side. But I was determined...I would get Professor Yummy alone somehow...I'd think of something...
Back at our hotel, I still had no idea how to get this guy alone. The three of us got into the elevator, and all pressed different floors. And get this...like the lucky, slutty bitch I am, Cheater-man was on 2, I was on 5, and Professor Yummy was on 6. You do the math. Cheater-man came out of his alcohol-sleeze trance long enough to realize this and said "should I come for the ride and go back down?" In unison, Professor Yummy and I responded "no." See ya Cheater-man, Professor Yummy and I have 12 seconds alone and he asks me to his room. Fuckin'...aces.
I don't want to bore you with the delicious details of the late-night cardio that went on behind closed doors. He was yummy. I think I should earn an Honorary PhD just for having him inside me. Yummy...smart people...
I was at a conference for work last week, (yup, there's actually some sucker that agrees to pay me a salary while I sit at a desk and pretend to be busy between blowjobs and martinis). About 250 of us were staying at a hotel for the week and I didn't know a soul. The first workshop of the day was taught by a Professor of an elite University on the other side of the country. I thought nothing of him as I grabbed my seat and got ready for another snoozefest. But after a few minutes of his talk, I kinda started getting warm feelings in my vagina for him. He was actually becoming...yummy. The 40-something, four-eyed smarty-pants was turning into some kind of tall, handsome genius right before my very eyes. I didn't think too much of it, just that maybe this wasn't so boring after all, and a couple of hours later the workshop ended. Then my mind started buzzing...Professor? Yummy? Tall? Over 20? JACKPOT. I left the conference room with no plot in mind, but I wasn't worried...I never have a plot, shit just seems to happen for me.
That night I planned to meet an acquaintance for dinner. I was delighted when I got to the lobby and my dinner partner wasn't there, but Professor Yummy was. My diaphragm did a back flip as I walked towards him. He said he was meeting the same guy, and we were all going to be having dinner together. I was relieved to discover I'd have 2 hours to seduce him rather than 3 lobby minutes. (We all know I could have closed the deal in 3 minutes, but why show off? It was a small town, I didn't want to shock people too soon). During dinner Professor Yummy was giving off some kind of unspoken energy that just screamed to me that he was on the edge of letting loose. I can't put my finger on a single thing that he said or did, I just have a sixth sense for tall, handsome geniuses that are dying to get hammered and forget they're professional geniuses. He had come to the right place. During dinner I was slamming back beers like Barney Gumble. No respectable man would let a girl out-drink her, right? Right...Professor Yummy fell into my first trap. After his fourth or fifth beer, he started to waver when the waitress asked "another?"...but have no fear, I was quick to take the liberty of replying "yes" for him, since clearly he was having trouble. He didn't argue with me. Good choice.
We all decided to hit the local casino. As we went to order a round of drinks Professor Yummy said he "thinks" he might just get water. Me "thinks" he needs more beer. I told him that when I've had too much to drink, I switch to light beer. True story. He quickly agreed that light beer was clearly the best choice. Checkmate. Professor Yummy wasn't a gambler. He stuck a five in the machine..."Hey Big Spender, Da Da Da Daaa!" I sat next to him and stuck my rent money in the machine. I lost my rent money and he won a couple hundred dollars. He gave me a fifty for being his "good luck charm." I didn't protest. By that time he'd switched to gin and tonics and his glasses had come off...I fucking knew it, this guy hadn't gone crazy since he took a bong hit in 9th grade. After a couple of hours of 'Operation Corrupt Professor,' I felt he was corrupted the perfect amount...drunk, happy, but still sexy as fuck. Unfortunately getting him alone might be challenging since the acquaintance of mine that I originally planned to meet for dinner had morphed into some sexually-deprived sweet-talker who seemed to have forgotten that he had a wife and kids while he hit on me ruthlessly throughout the night. He did not want to leave my side. But I was determined...I would get Professor Yummy alone somehow...I'd think of something...
Back at our hotel, I still had no idea how to get this guy alone. The three of us got into the elevator, and all pressed different floors. And get this...like the lucky, slutty bitch I am, Cheater-man was on 2, I was on 5, and Professor Yummy was on 6. You do the math. Cheater-man came out of his alcohol-sleeze trance long enough to realize this and said "should I come for the ride and go back down?" In unison, Professor Yummy and I responded "no." See ya Cheater-man, Professor Yummy and I have 12 seconds alone and he asks me to his room. Fuckin'...aces.
I don't want to bore you with the delicious details of the late-night cardio that went on behind closed doors. He was yummy. I think I should earn an Honorary PhD just for having him inside me. Yummy...smart people...
Thursday, March 31, 2011
I Wish this was Fiction...
Please believe me when I say that in order to stay with me on this one, you're going to need to be sitting down, completely sober, and be within arms reach of some kind of writing utensil and graph paper. I literally can't believe this is my real life. Okay, so the neighbour catastrophe...just to recap:
1. I slept with my next door neighbour, (who has nothing to do with the following story).
2. I slept with my upstairs neighbour's best friend a few months ago.
3. I kissed my upstairs neighbour's brother/roommate a few weeks ago.
4. I hit on my upstairs neighbour and his OTHER friend, simultaneously, as if I'm Jenna James starring in a Peter North film, three weeks ago.
5. I slept with my upstairs neighbour two weeks ago.
Got that? Okay...so...let's talk about the "OTHER" friend from point 4. above. The only part of that night that made the cut to my blog was the e-mail I had to send the next morning apologizing to my upstairs neighbour for hitting on him and his friend at the same time, and kissing his brother the week before. Oops. In actuality, the entire night I was trying to seduce both of them, as if I don't have enough notches on my belt from this particular address. Luckily for me, I was so incredibly intoxicated, that one of them said something to me, just a single sentence, that offended my drunk-ass so much that I stormed out leaving them both blue-balled. What did they say you ask? I have no fucking clue. They probably said that Backstreet Boys aren't cool anymore or watermelon is NOT the best kind of fruit...who the fuck cares, whatever it was, storming out seemed to be dramatically appropriate. Luckily our friendship survived and a week later I hung out with, and banged, my upstairs neighbour. Lucky him. Which brings us to this week...
This week upstairs neighbour, his best friend, and his brother/roommate are away on vacation. I'm not gonna lie, the thought of them all sharing a king bed with me smashed somewhere in between is making it hard for me to focus. So they're away for the week and I get a message from...the OTHER friend, (the almost-threesome blue-baller), who just happens to be housesitting upstairs. He wants to hang out. That was Monday. I was drunk so ended up just not texting back. I know what you're thinking...why the HELL was I drunk on a Monday? Don't worry, I Tivo'd "Intervention," it's all good. Tuesday, another text. He wants to "hang out and be lazy" with me. Hmmm...sounds like he wants to bang. I tell him I just want to chill, but maybe next time. he texts again a couple hours later and asks if I still want to chill by myself. Yes, yes I do. Wednesday...he asks me what I'm up to...I'm watching a movie, and he gets the hint to leave me alone for the evening.
Alright. One of two things is going on here:
1. He has no idea that I slept with his friend who is away right now, which is plausible, because I abandoned them both in a possible BSB/watermelon frenzy the last time he saw me, and finds me incredibly sexy and desirable and can't believe his luck that he is alone in an apartment with me just mere feet away. Or
2. A public announcement has been made to all units in my apartment building that I will put out to anyone who looks like he may be under 30 and has all his teeth.
I'll assume it's number 1, because it helps me sleep at night thinking that I'm just THAT desirable to anyone within a 10-foot radius. And for the record, I have no attraction to friend #2, so his powers are useless against me. Unless I drink vodka...better get it out of the house just to be safe.
Yup, still got it.
1. I slept with my next door neighbour, (who has nothing to do with the following story).
2. I slept with my upstairs neighbour's best friend a few months ago.
3. I kissed my upstairs neighbour's brother/roommate a few weeks ago.
4. I hit on my upstairs neighbour and his OTHER friend, simultaneously, as if I'm Jenna James starring in a Peter North film, three weeks ago.
5. I slept with my upstairs neighbour two weeks ago.
Got that? Okay...so...let's talk about the "OTHER" friend from point 4. above. The only part of that night that made the cut to my blog was the e-mail I had to send the next morning apologizing to my upstairs neighbour for hitting on him and his friend at the same time, and kissing his brother the week before. Oops. In actuality, the entire night I was trying to seduce both of them, as if I don't have enough notches on my belt from this particular address. Luckily for me, I was so incredibly intoxicated, that one of them said something to me, just a single sentence, that offended my drunk-ass so much that I stormed out leaving them both blue-balled. What did they say you ask? I have no fucking clue. They probably said that Backstreet Boys aren't cool anymore or watermelon is NOT the best kind of fruit...who the fuck cares, whatever it was, storming out seemed to be dramatically appropriate. Luckily our friendship survived and a week later I hung out with, and banged, my upstairs neighbour. Lucky him. Which brings us to this week...
This week upstairs neighbour, his best friend, and his brother/roommate are away on vacation. I'm not gonna lie, the thought of them all sharing a king bed with me smashed somewhere in between is making it hard for me to focus. So they're away for the week and I get a message from...the OTHER friend, (the almost-threesome blue-baller), who just happens to be housesitting upstairs. He wants to hang out. That was Monday. I was drunk so ended up just not texting back. I know what you're thinking...why the HELL was I drunk on a Monday? Don't worry, I Tivo'd "Intervention," it's all good. Tuesday, another text. He wants to "hang out and be lazy" with me. Hmmm...sounds like he wants to bang. I tell him I just want to chill, but maybe next time. he texts again a couple hours later and asks if I still want to chill by myself. Yes, yes I do. Wednesday...he asks me what I'm up to...I'm watching a movie, and he gets the hint to leave me alone for the evening.
Alright. One of two things is going on here:
1. He has no idea that I slept with his friend who is away right now, which is plausible, because I abandoned them both in a possible BSB/watermelon frenzy the last time he saw me, and finds me incredibly sexy and desirable and can't believe his luck that he is alone in an apartment with me just mere feet away. Or
2. A public announcement has been made to all units in my apartment building that I will put out to anyone who looks like he may be under 30 and has all his teeth.
I'll assume it's number 1, because it helps me sleep at night thinking that I'm just THAT desirable to anyone within a 10-foot radius. And for the record, I have no attraction to friend #2, so his powers are useless against me. Unless I drink vodka...better get it out of the house just to be safe.
Yup, still got it.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Leave Your Socks at the Door
About a month ago I got an e-mail from a friend, asking if I was single because I would be "perfect" for her brother. I'm not so much into the whole set-up thing, but the idea that anyone thought there might be anything remotely resembling a "perfect" bone in my body was hard to pass up. I put it off for a while on account of the little child I was dating at the time, but I opened up the floor for conversation and added the guy to my Facebook. We chatted quite a bit and he asked me out several times, so finally we met last night. He was a nice guy. You know, nice, like lemonade or potato chips...they're good while you're enjoying them, but probably wouldn't miss them if there was some kind of lemon/potato catastrophe that wiped them out forever. We had a couple of drinks, exchanged witty banter, and somewhere along the way I started texting my upstairs neighbour. Don't ask how I managed to redeem myself after last week's antics, because to be honest, I myself am astounded at the elite level of awesomeness I seemingly possess as of late. I must be careful to use my powers wisely. Anyhoo, I planned to meet with upstairs neighbour after my date was over with Bachelor # 7,612. We ended the date with a hug, and off I went to sabotage any chance of a future with lemon/potato man.
20 minutes later upstairs neighbour came over. As he walked out the door of his place, his brother/roommate, (the one I kissed last week), asked him where he was going, and I was happy to hear he decided to keep the details vague by responding with "out." Hopefully his brother failed to notice that he left the apartment in his socks. I won't bore you with the details of how we ended up banging on the couch...twice. It was a good time. When he left, we decided that, purely for reasons of geographic convenience, we will continue our sexual relationship as frequently as needed to relieve stress and build cardiovascular strength. We also agreed to inform each other immediately, should either of us start to develop an emotional attachment to the other. That would most certainly be me since I'm the one with the expiration date on my ovaries, however I feel strong and very man-like these days, so it shouldn't be a problem. I can't see how this could possibly end badly...
20 minutes later upstairs neighbour came over. As he walked out the door of his place, his brother/roommate, (the one I kissed last week), asked him where he was going, and I was happy to hear he decided to keep the details vague by responding with "out." Hopefully his brother failed to notice that he left the apartment in his socks. I won't bore you with the details of how we ended up banging on the couch...twice. It was a good time. When he left, we decided that, purely for reasons of geographic convenience, we will continue our sexual relationship as frequently as needed to relieve stress and build cardiovascular strength. We also agreed to inform each other immediately, should either of us start to develop an emotional attachment to the other. That would most certainly be me since I'm the one with the expiration date on my ovaries, however I feel strong and very man-like these days, so it shouldn't be a problem. I can't see how this could possibly end badly...
Friday, March 11, 2011
Sharing Walls, Ceilings, and Saliva
I think it may be time to reinstate The Nice Girl Project. My ridiculous hijinks since parting ways with the minor are slightly out of control. Not to mention the fact that I can't seem to proceed any further than my own apartment building to play with boys. Earlier this week I got into an argument with the neighbour I slept with a few months ago and we aren't speaking. We share walls but don't speak. The argument was entirely sourced by his own freakazoidness, so I don't feel bad about that. However, I've been hanging out with my upstairs neighbour a bit lately, the one who shares my ceiling. The precise events of last night's events aren't important, however, they resulted in my having to send him the following e-mail for damage control:
"Hey,
About last night...I don't really know what you want from me or why you care what I want. I'm just having fun, I'm a huge flirt and love boys.
I don't know why I kissed your brother, that was weird. And last night I was attracted to both you and your buddy, what can I say. It was douchebaggery at its finest.
I shall venture out of our apartment building in search of my next love interest. Don't worry about replacing my beer, I'm never drinking again.
Sincere fucking love and all that shit"
Jesus Christ. Enough said.
"Hey,
About last night...I don't really know what you want from me or why you care what I want. I'm just having fun, I'm a huge flirt and love boys.
I don't know why I kissed your brother, that was weird. And last night I was attracted to both you and your buddy, what can I say. It was douchebaggery at its finest.
I shall venture out of our apartment building in search of my next love interest. Don't worry about replacing my beer, I'm never drinking again.
Sincere fucking love and all that shit"
Jesus Christ. Enough said.
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