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a post I'd put on another site, from a few months back. Made me giggle again, when I stumbled on it.
So, there I am, in some yuppie-plastic-meat-market, with the DJ playing some crap-house-disco-electro-whatever, and no Guinness to be seen. Not a drop. Just weak-ass domestic beer, and coloured drinks with weird straws and umbrella-things in them. Not that it matters, 'cause I'm still medicated up the hoop and can't drink anyway. The males (?) are all walking around, sucking in their flabby civilian guts, wearing all kinds of jewellery, and showing off their dyed/frosted/streaked/whatever-the-metros-are-calling-it-today hair.
I'm in hell.
I mean this is worse than the week before when I was stuck in IKEA and they were playing ABBA on the muzac.
M'dear, darlin' little wife is chatting with my cousin in some booth, and I got real tired of listening to that, so I'm up at the bar being incredibly charming and friendly to the passing plastic-sheeple. Ken and Barbie on parade.
Well, out of nowhere comes uber-hottie! Picture Jessica Simpson. Only hotter! She says something about how I look so grumpy. I ask if she has a boyfriend.
She says "no."
I ask "would you like one?"
I she says, "maybe. (giggle)"
Me: "Well, I'm a great boyfriend. How about me?"
Her: "I guess we could try it. (giggle)"
- And when I put 'giggle' in there, picture the ultimate bimbette giggle. Seriously, when I looked into her eyes, I could actually see the bubbles floating around in there. -
Me: "O.K. lemme go ask my wife. I'll be right back." ('Cause I'm considerate. I wouldn't want to just spring this sort of thing on her. How rude would that be? "Hey honey. Meet my new girlfriend. Can you make her a drink or something?") And off I scoot to m'dear, darlin' little wife.
"Hey, babe," I says. ('Cause I'm a brilliant conversationalist.) "You don't mind sharing, right? Can I have a girlfriend? "
"Who?" Wifey asks. (Cleverly leading me to believe that someday, perhaps, I can actually have a girlfriend. Canny, that wife o' mine.)
"Her." Says I, pointing at ultra-vixen. Who's staring at me with her eyes slightly bulging.
"No."
"Right."
Well, no harm in asking. You never know the answer unless you ask the question, right? But, I am a little shocked. Wifey isn't usually so selfish. She's always lending stuff out to neighbours (usually MY stuff), giving things to charity (see previous), helping out various causes (almost never the "Get-Hubby-Loaded-Fund, however), etc. Apparently, though, girlfriends are out. Which is totally unfair! I'd let her have a girlfriend. She could even stay with us. (I give and I give. It hurts, and I give more. That's just the kind of guy I am.)
So, I go back to the bar and break the bad news to mega-babe.
"She said no."
Her: "Well, I don't blame her! I didn't know you were married!" And she says this like it's my fault. She's the one who didn't ask. Weirdo.
Me: "You don't blame her?"
"No!"
"You have a problem with sharing? Didn't you watch Sesame Street? Sharing is important."
Her: "Gross! I don't do that!" And off she flounces. (In a huff, if you can believe that. A real, no-foolin' HUFF! Never seen a huff before.) Leaving me to yell after her:
"You don't do that? Don't do what? You don't share? See, that's why you don't have a boyfriend! You don't share! You're never gonna have a boyfriend unless you learn to share!"
Chicks are so selfish.
So, there I am, in some yuppie-plastic-meat-market, with the DJ playing some crap-house-disco-electro-whatever, and no Guinness to be seen. Not a drop. Just weak-ass domestic beer, and coloured drinks with weird straws and umbrella-things in them. Not that it matters, 'cause I'm still medicated up the hoop and can't drink anyway. The males (?) are all walking around, sucking in their flabby civilian guts, wearing all kinds of jewellery, and showing off their dyed/frosted/streaked/whatever-the-metros-are-calling-it-today hair.
I'm in hell.
I mean this is worse than the week before when I was stuck in IKEA and they were playing ABBA on the muzac.
M'dear, darlin' little wife is chatting with my cousin in some booth, and I got real tired of listening to that, so I'm up at the bar being incredibly charming and friendly to the passing plastic-sheeple. Ken and Barbie on parade.
Well, out of nowhere comes uber-hottie! Picture Jessica Simpson. Only hotter! She says something about how I look so grumpy. I ask if she has a boyfriend.
She says "no."
I ask "would you like one?"
I she says, "maybe. (giggle)"
Me: "Well, I'm a great boyfriend. How about me?"
Her: "I guess we could try it. (giggle)"
- And when I put 'giggle' in there, picture the ultimate bimbette giggle. Seriously, when I looked into her eyes, I could actually see the bubbles floating around in there. -
Me: "O.K. lemme go ask my wife. I'll be right back." ('Cause I'm considerate. I wouldn't want to just spring this sort of thing on her. How rude would that be? "Hey honey. Meet my new girlfriend. Can you make her a drink or something?") And off I scoot to m'dear, darlin' little wife.
"Hey, babe," I says. ('Cause I'm a brilliant conversationalist.) "You don't mind sharing, right? Can I have a girlfriend? "
"Who?" Wifey asks. (Cleverly leading me to believe that someday, perhaps, I can actually have a girlfriend. Canny, that wife o' mine.)
"Her." Says I, pointing at ultra-vixen. Who's staring at me with her eyes slightly bulging.
"No."
"Right."
Well, no harm in asking. You never know the answer unless you ask the question, right? But, I am a little shocked. Wifey isn't usually so selfish. She's always lending stuff out to neighbours (usually MY stuff), giving things to charity (see previous), helping out various causes (almost never the "Get-Hubby-Loaded-Fund, however), etc. Apparently, though, girlfriends are out. Which is totally unfair! I'd let her have a girlfriend. She could even stay with us. (I give and I give. It hurts, and I give more. That's just the kind of guy I am.)
So, I go back to the bar and break the bad news to mega-babe.
"She said no."
Her: "Well, I don't blame her! I didn't know you were married!" And she says this like it's my fault. She's the one who didn't ask. Weirdo.
Me: "You don't blame her?"
"No!"
"You have a problem with sharing? Didn't you watch Sesame Street? Sharing is important."
Her: "Gross! I don't do that!" And off she flounces. (In a huff, if you can believe that. A real, no-foolin' HUFF! Never seen a huff before.) Leaving me to yell after her:
"You don't do that? Don't do what? You don't share? See, that's why you don't have a boyfriend! You don't share! You're never gonna have a boyfriend unless you learn to share!"
Chicks are so selfish.
whoda thunk?
