This was an actual conversation about another (different) conversation - let's just jump right in and skip the intro:
Redhead: And then I used the c-word.
Christine: Wait…what?!
Redhead: I honestly don’t think I’ve ever used it out loud before, but it just kind of popped out.
Christine: What was the context?
Redhead: I was…you know…talking about the body part.
Christine: WAIT...WHAT?!
Redhead: It kind of fit naturally into the conversation at the time. The guy seemed surprised though.
Christine: No shit. Men are afraid of that word (for good fucking reason)! But you…you should know better!
Redhead: I know.
Christine: Bad!
Redhead: I know!
Christine: That’s it – give your girl card back!
Redhead: Stop yelling at me!
Annddddd....scene.
Turns out girls aren't allowed to use the c-word either - did anyone else know this? Can I ask a question here? What exactly is so bad about the word? I know it's a no-no and everything, but...why?
Anyway, so now I'm in 'girl trouble' - whatever that is - and I guess I'm in 'girl jail' (which I just made up). Mental shrug.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
May – The Month of Lust
Seriously, that’s what Christine proclaimed after some completely ridiculous behavior (on both our parts) last month. Thank God it’s over! Note: I’m actually kind of sad it’s over; we had a lot of fun. Don’t judge me!
Anywho, sort of on the same topic but not really, have any of you people ever heard of the ‘Irish Curse’? Christine spent a really long time last weekend trying to convince me that there is such a thing. Essentially all it refers to is an entire county’s...well, there’s really no nice way to say this – dick size. Apparently Irishmen have wee little peckers. Now I’ve dated an Irish dude a time or two, and honestly…I don’t know. I wasn’t overwhelmed by their size or anything, but I wasn’t laughing at it (on the inside of course) either. Am I just terribly unobservant? Is there a nugget (tee hee) of truth there?
Thoughts? No? OK, moving on…
Ooh, before we do – and while we’re on the subject of Irish dicks – it turns out that Christine wants to spend some time with a particular one. One that you all know (but not as well as I do – oo-er). Wow, when did I get so dirty?
Anyway, I keep going off on tangents, but the big news is…Christine wants to fuck my Bartender! (You may remember him from here and here.) And you know what – I was totally fine with it. In fact, my response was pretty unequivocal:
Redhead: I bequeath him to you – go forth and prosper!
Not surprisingly I was super duper drunk when I said that. But still, the sentiment stands. I don’t want him, and he’s cute and fun, so she can (and should) have him. The only problem is I missed a golden opportunity there, and I’m bummed I didn’t take the time to properly fuck with my friend.
Now, in the sober light of day, all I can think is I should have gotten something for my troubles (and by troubles, I mean handing over my sloppy seconds to Christine). Where’s the guilt trip she should be on? Where’s my free meal/free drinks? Where’s the groveling that is expected when a friend moves in on your (sort of) ex?
I’ll tell you where – it’s at the bottom of my scotch glass. Along with my pride.
Hmmm, and on a completely unrelated note, guess what I had for breakfast this morning? Rolos! Do you guys remember those? I hadn’t seen them in years, but when I stumbled to the vending machine this morning to buy myself breakfast (I swear they sell granola bars in the vending machine, so it’s not always quite as bad as it sounds), what did I see? Rolos! Those bit size caramels covered in chocolate – do you remember them? The ones that are REALLY chewy and make you drool all over yourself. Just me?
Well I bought them, and let me tell you – they were AWESOME! I didn’t even feel stupid (well…not really) when my assistant came into my office and found me slobbering all over myself while eating one.
OK, that’s enough for today. Hey, maybe I’ll post again sometime this month! Wouldn’t that be cool?! Yeah, we’ll see.
Anywho, sort of on the same topic but not really, have any of you people ever heard of the ‘Irish Curse’? Christine spent a really long time last weekend trying to convince me that there is such a thing. Essentially all it refers to is an entire county’s...well, there’s really no nice way to say this – dick size. Apparently Irishmen have wee little peckers. Now I’ve dated an Irish dude a time or two, and honestly…I don’t know. I wasn’t overwhelmed by their size or anything, but I wasn’t laughing at it (on the inside of course) either. Am I just terribly unobservant? Is there a nugget (tee hee) of truth there?
Thoughts? No? OK, moving on…
Ooh, before we do – and while we’re on the subject of Irish dicks – it turns out that Christine wants to spend some time with a particular one. One that you all know (but not as well as I do – oo-er). Wow, when did I get so dirty?
Anyway, I keep going off on tangents, but the big news is…Christine wants to fuck my Bartender! (You may remember him from here and here.) And you know what – I was totally fine with it. In fact, my response was pretty unequivocal:
Redhead: I bequeath him to you – go forth and prosper!
Not surprisingly I was super duper drunk when I said that. But still, the sentiment stands. I don’t want him, and he’s cute and fun, so she can (and should) have him. The only problem is I missed a golden opportunity there, and I’m bummed I didn’t take the time to properly fuck with my friend.
Now, in the sober light of day, all I can think is I should have gotten something for my troubles (and by troubles, I mean handing over my sloppy seconds to Christine). Where’s the guilt trip she should be on? Where’s my free meal/free drinks? Where’s the groveling that is expected when a friend moves in on your (sort of) ex?
I’ll tell you where – it’s at the bottom of my scotch glass. Along with my pride.
Hmmm, and on a completely unrelated note, guess what I had for breakfast this morning? Rolos! Do you guys remember those? I hadn’t seen them in years, but when I stumbled to the vending machine this morning to buy myself breakfast (I swear they sell granola bars in the vending machine, so it’s not always quite as bad as it sounds), what did I see? Rolos! Those bit size caramels covered in chocolate – do you remember them? The ones that are REALLY chewy and make you drool all over yourself. Just me?
Well I bought them, and let me tell you – they were AWESOME! I didn’t even feel stupid (well…not really) when my assistant came into my office and found me slobbering all over myself while eating one.
OK, that’s enough for today. Hey, maybe I’ll post again sometime this month! Wouldn’t that be cool?! Yeah, we’ll see.
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