Quick, call a witch doctor! My witch is sick.
So I went to a sushi restaurant with my two bff's for a little impromptu cocktail get together. The three of us were hanging out when BBF #1 stops some guy walking by and says, Hi, aren't you 'so and so?' I met you a few months ago at 'some function'. Hey, it was loud...I only caught part of the exchange.
Let me tell you....this guy was a MAMMOTH of a man. I was thinking to myself, holy moly he's a big dude...he's gotta play sports or SOMETHING. Turns out he's on the offensive line for the Texans. Not that it's that cool or impressive anymore, but he bought us drinks all night long, so that made him cool. I just had to blog about it. He was an ENORMOUS human being.
"Makes you wonder" says BFF #2.
Again, it was loud and I thought she said 'Bet he's longer'...no lie.
BFF #2 "Well, that too."
So we saw a guy I had a blind date with about 5 years ago. He's still schmoozing like the oily slime he is, still fat....still single...no surprise there. So, Mr. Slick was at the sushi restarant last night with a bunch of other admiring young whipper snappers thinking he's the god of executive advertising. BBF #1 had to walk by him for some reason and he reached to grab her. To her horror, she too thought he had recognized us. Nope...he wanted to hit on her. She recoiled like something had bit her and ran to our table.
So about Mr. Slick...it's hilarious, trust me. When I went out on a blind date with him...like all blind dates, he was nothing like his email, phone conversations or picture said he was. He's just a fat cocky guy who talks about nothing but himself. Being the nice person I was ('was' being the past tense here people) I let him run on and on about how great of an advertisement executive he was. blah blah blah, stifle yawn, secretly check watch.
Fast forward three years and we see him in Champps. He stops me, and just when I feel the cold feeling of dread creep over my body, he opens his mouth. This dumb ass doesn't recognize me. He stopped me to ask me for my number. Idiot. I tell him, "We've met. We've gone out on a date before." I get a blank stare...which isn't a far stretch for this guy. He's got the memory of a goldfish.
His response is something along the lines of well I think we should try again because I think we'd make a great couple. I gulped back the vomit that had risen to my throat and I noticed that there were a few of his buddies watching the scene play out. They are thinking this Playboy has done it again and snagged himself a hottie.
My quick wit jumped in now that I had a captive audience and I gambled. I said, "If you can remember my name, I'll go out on a another date with you." So Mr. Slick was again, blank. His buddies laughed their ass off and I walked off triumphantly tossing my hair and a comment in his direction about how a fart in a jar is more interesting than he is. I told you, I USED to be a nice person.
Let me tell you....this guy was a MAMMOTH of a man. I was thinking to myself, holy moly he's a big dude...he's gotta play sports or SOMETHING. Turns out he's on the offensive line for the Texans. Not that it's that cool or impressive anymore, but he bought us drinks all night long, so that made him cool. I just had to blog about it. He was an ENORMOUS human being.
"Makes you wonder" says BFF #2.
Again, it was loud and I thought she said 'Bet he's longer'...no lie.
BFF #2 "Well, that too."
So we saw a guy I had a blind date with about 5 years ago. He's still schmoozing like the oily slime he is, still fat....still single...no surprise there. So, Mr. Slick was at the sushi restarant last night with a bunch of other admiring young whipper snappers thinking he's the god of executive advertising. BBF #1 had to walk by him for some reason and he reached to grab her. To her horror, she too thought he had recognized us. Nope...he wanted to hit on her. She recoiled like something had bit her and ran to our table.
So about Mr. Slick...it's hilarious, trust me. When I went out on a blind date with him...like all blind dates, he was nothing like his email, phone conversations or picture said he was. He's just a fat cocky guy who talks about nothing but himself. Being the nice person I was ('was' being the past tense here people) I let him run on and on about how great of an advertisement executive he was. blah blah blah, stifle yawn, secretly check watch.
Fast forward three years and we see him in Champps. He stops me, and just when I feel the cold feeling of dread creep over my body, he opens his mouth. This dumb ass doesn't recognize me. He stopped me to ask me for my number. Idiot. I tell him, "We've met. We've gone out on a date before." I get a blank stare...which isn't a far stretch for this guy. He's got the memory of a goldfish.
His response is something along the lines of well I think we should try again because I think we'd make a great couple. I gulped back the vomit that had risen to my throat and I noticed that there were a few of his buddies watching the scene play out. They are thinking this Playboy has done it again and snagged himself a hottie.
My quick wit jumped in now that I had a captive audience and I gambled. I said, "If you can remember my name, I'll go out on a another date with you." So Mr. Slick was again, blank. His buddies laughed their ass off and I walked off triumphantly tossing my hair and a comment in his direction about how a fart in a jar is more interesting than he is. I told you, I USED to be a nice person.
posted by Spicy Vixen @ 2:58 PM
3 comments
