You know, it really shouldn’t take four of those Goddamned things to get me to sleep. I feel like I should be in Resident Evil: Apocalypse. I’m sluggish, infected with a virus that makes me secrete drippy crap out of my nose and mouth, and I thirst for the flesh of the living. I don’t have Milla Jovovich (wierd stack-of-pennies nipples and all) wandering around naked, but then again, I also don’t have the cute-and-cuddly bastardized version of Nemesis coming after me either, so it’s a give and take.
Speaking of secreting fluids, btw… God, that’s a terrible way to start a paragraph. Or any conversation, for that matter. Anyway, I’m at the bank yesterday getting ready to cash a few checks, and the new girl behind the counter is totally hot. She looks up at me, realizes that I’m waiting, says “Oh! Hold on just a second!” and starts to rapidly finish putting paper in her printer. Unfortunately for me, the haggish old manager lady got to me first. During the transaction, the cutie kept looking over at me and flashing a nice smile. We flirted back and forth a bit, she apologized for making me wait (which I didn’t mind, I was staring at her body) and I teased her about her capacity for customer service. More smiles, more eye contact, I’m already feeling better. It had been a bitch of a day, so a little casual flirting is always a good pick-me-up.
So the transaction is done, the manager hag says goodbye, and the new girl looks up, smiles wide and says “Bye! Good to see you!” and I return the sentiment. I’m walking along feeling alright, and I suddenly remember that I was going to the store to pick up some sinus medication for these fucking allergies. That’s when I stop myself, think hard for a moment, and reach up to my right nostril.
Yep. Nice trail oozing out. Can’t be certain if that’s what caused all the smiling and niceness, but I wouldn’t doubt it as a possibility. What’s sad is that I never share any stories with you guys about successful romps with women, just the more humbling times. Probably because you guys thrive on the pain and misery of others. I guess that’s why we get along so well, my internet lovers. We share a passion.
plus – that, and everybody who brags on the internet about knocking off a chunk is either A.) lying their ass off, or B.) a 43 year old man who fucks boys.
YeahI was going to add that, but after all these years its sort of redundant.
ButWhen has being redundant ever stopped you?
The shadowy reflection line… \”Now you’re gettin’ NASTY…\”
hahfunny shit!
AhhCowboy up MotherFucker!!!….Did you fuck her in your mind while at the Checkstand?Fuckin A right you did!
haYeah, because if you can’t get laid, anyone else who does talk about fucking women on the internet is a liar, or fucking little boys. Virgin logic is the best evar.