Saturday, September 19, 2009

Love Bogey

Boy do I have a back log of stories to write about. Some of these are from June. JUNE!!! So, my apologies if I have kept you waiting.
First I should say I am watching an episode of house hunters (god I love HGTV) and the couple is looking to buy in Uptown Chicago. I am shouting at the TV “don’t do it!”. I don’t know when they filmed it, but they are making it out to be some glamorous place to be. I wonder how much they paid off the gangbangers. Anyway the place they purchased is literally down the street from me (yeah that is my cemetery I joke to people about).

Moving on, here are pictures from my kickball teammate’s 25th birthday party. Of course you know it is a 25 year old’s birthday when the theme involves the women dressing up as sluts. We all remember the college parties of pimp and ho’s, or gangsters and ho’s, or school girl sluts…you get the picture. As we age, the costume theme parties switch to convenient, funny, or absurd to account for the lack of our 21 year old bodies. The party’s theme was ‘golf pros and tennis hos’, yes clever. The highlights include one person showing up with a golf club. At first I thought it totally completed the outfit. Later I realized drunk people plus a blunt object weapon equal a bad idea. Yeah after some drunk girl (not me I swear) started dancing with the club, the bartender thankfully confiscated it and hid it behind the bar. Also a girl randomly did a back flip in the bar. Granted she was wearing a short tennis skirt and a thong…good choice. I ended up getting a skinned knee because a friend decided to pick me up and then drop me because he couldn’t balance with another 100+ pounds in his arms. He then blurted out as an excuse “I didn’t think you were so heavy”. Thanks jackass. I later got revenge by bitch slapping him on his belly bare skin. He was going to pick up another girl (literally pick up) and I yanked up his shirt and slapped his stomach to make him think twice about that. The night ended with passing out at the Biter’s house. Yes the Biter. I don’t believe I wrote about him before. The first time we drunkenly made out, he practically mauled me in the back of a cab. He would bite down hard on my lip and it hurt enough to punch him back. In a completely unexpected turn of events, he actually was aroused by me fighting back. There was so much assault going on that the cab driver became concerned and tried to pull over. Later in my living room he bit my neck, so I grabbed a pair of scissors (I was crocheting a blanket) and cut a chunk of his hair off. The next morning, we were eating breakfast and noticed the tuft of hair on the coffee table. He reached up to his head and felt the bare spot before shooting me a “what did we do last night” look. Hence he get the nickname “the Biter”. Well I ended up passing out at his house (fully clothed mind you). I was woken up in the morning by his curious cat who was pawing at the strange woman in his master’s bed. I pushed the cat away, and it came back to me. I then started to pick it up and move it off the bed. The cat was a damn boomerang because it kept coming back to me. I then decided to make it the Biter’s problem, and started to throw the cat on him. He didn’t wake up and the cat freaking loved this game of fetch. Amused, I started to stuff the cat down his pants or in his shirt. The man was out cold and the cat started purring. Yep, that was one of the most unusual morning of my life.


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