May 31, 2005

Free Love at the Wisconsin Embassy

Friday night, Heather, Mord and I went to hear a friend sing at Skuttlebutt's, which is apparently the Wisconsin Embassy in Illinois or something because on the menu was "Ed's Fried Dough." Naturally, we had to order some, and it was everything Ed promised it would be, PLUS marinara sauce and pepperoni. God bless you, Ed.

Joe was good, as far as I could tell during brief pauses in the unrelenting slurping noises going on neaxt to me. Frenchie McPucker was all, "I just can't keep my lips off this man!" And I was like, "Could you at least hold my hair back while I throw up in my purse?"

I guess the bubba next to me interpreted my nausea as lonliness because, in the middle of a song, he called out, "Blondie!"

Now, I normally don't acknowledge Benny Hill look-alikes who think they are in my league because the last time they were sober they were twenty years old and hott, but since some folks at work call me Blondie, I reflexively turned towards Jabba before I could stab myself in the eye with a fork.

"I just called you that because I heard Joe call you that when you walked in." Great. "What's your real name?"

And because I'd already had an alcoholic beverage, my Kaluha-laced brain couldn't think fast enough, and I gave him my real name. And he nods and goes, "Jeff." Which, although horrifying at the time, in retrospect, was awesome because it means I can now use Jeff's real name when blogging insults about Jeff. So thanks, Jeff!

Needless to say, not only was my poor ego reeling from the man who apparently thought that I was old, obese, homely and shit-faced enough to welcome his attention, but I was pretty skeeved-out as well. I don't go to bars much (I prefer to drink at home. Alone. In the dark. Weeping.), so I'm not good at deflecting this kind of attention. I mean, could my fucking diamond rings get any diamond-ier?!

Heather went right into high-school-protective-mother-hen mode and was like, "Don't worry -- I'll have Joe make-out with you so Jeff thinks you're with him."

Of COURSE! Why didn't I think of that? The obvious solution! Jeff will be completely intimidated by a man who just got done singing "Wastin' Away Again in Marijuanaville!" My friends are the best!

So Joe kissed me. And then Mord kissed me, for no apparent reason. And then Heather kissed me. So I felt her up. And just to be fair, Mord felt me up. And at that point, I'm sure Jeff was too busy questioning his own sexuality to wanna get involved with us free-love hippie freaks. And thus, my marriage was kept safe from Jeff... thru the shameless horniness of my friends... well, it made sense at the time. What the fuck does Ed put in his friend dough?!

Then Heather got mad that Mord got to feel me up and she didn't, so they broke up for five seconds, giving me just enough time to lick Heather. And when they reconciled, Mord was like, "I'll make you a deal. For every move you make on Heather, I get to cut off one of your fingers." (Yeah, they have jealousy issues.)

I thought about it, weighed the pros and cons, and came to the conclusion that his offer was a bit of a catch-twenty-two. "If I have no fingers, I have no way of pleasuring her."

"Well," he said, "There's always your tongue."

Which is a weird thing for a guy who wants me off his girlfriend to say. Soooo, if you'll follow me, I believe that, secretly, Mord actually wants Heather and I to hook-up.

Tune in tomorrow to find out who is the better kisser -- Joe or Mord -- and to hear about the Amish Old Navy commercial we witnessed. But for now, I have to work. These assholes always give me projects when I actually have something fun to blog about.

Posted on May 31, 2005 01:05 PM

Comments

Posted by: Mord at May 31, 2005 02:33 PM

Posted by: Mickey at June 1, 2005 02:33 AM

Posted by: Queen of Ass at June 1, 2005 09:00 AM

Posted by: InnocentBystander at June 1, 2005 02:43 PM

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