Foreshadowing…

Picture the scene, the GirlFriend and I are out for a romantic evening, things are going fantastic, we are discussing how very soon she wants me to take her anal cherry. I am giddy with excitement. Then, I say something stupid, and things go horribly wrong. We end up leaving the restaurant with her in tears and me just sloppy drunk. Unable to find a cab because she wants to go home and then ‘go home’, I manage to get her to go into another restaurant/nightclub so that they can call us a cab. I have a quick conversation with the friendly but daunting bouncer and he volunteers to help us out. She storms off to the bathroom because she has the bladder of a 3 year old. The Bouncer makes it through the first 6 numbers on their cab list and gets nothing for us. Suddenly as the GirlFriend returns, I make eye contact with the gay maitre d’.

Gay Maitre d‘: You look familiar, like someone famous…
Me: I get that a lot.
GM: No, you look like, wait a minute, you know, J-Lo’s ex boyfriend?
GirlFriend: You mean Ben Affleck?
GM: EXACTLY!
Me: (giggling on the inside) That’s kinda funny, Ben’s actually my cousin, I’m Tod, one d…
GM: (pushing aside the bouncer) Let me handle this. (Gets on the phone with the very first cab company on the list), I need a cab here right away, I have a VIP!

He then apologizes to me that we have to wait 10 minutes for the cab. I suddenly feel inspired for our next trip to Canada, I will no longer be the chubby Ben Affleck…

Retarded Chicks vs. Regular Chicks.

I’m pretty sure the reason I don’t bang retarded chicks is because normal chicks aren’t far off. The Ex IM’ed me the other night to ask my opinion of the photo of her new tits that she emailed me. I told her they were nice and that it’s a shame that I don’t get to slap them around anymore. She jokingly asked me if I sent them over to Bob, to which I said of course not, I deleted the email right after I opened the picture. The irony of this is I immediately forwarded the email to Bob giggling like a school girl. After a 10 minute conversation I eventually convinced her that I didn’t do anything with the picture besides delete it because I respect her too much as a friend and a person, and I certainly didn’t forward it to Bob, who has since jerked off to it at least a half dozen times.

I’d like to thank the Academy, my co-stars and God, for making this all possible, without them I’d be just another aspiring actor working the glory holes of West Hollywood. Peace out Bitches…

I can’t make this shit up…

I just got an IM from the ex mouth I used to cum in. I replied and went to take a piss thinking I should really ask her for an updated picture so I can see how the tit job and tummy tuck came out. I don’t want to hit it anymore, but knowing I could hit it would be jerk off material. I come back to the computer and sure enough, sitting there in my inbox was a shot of her raising her shirt to show me the new tits. Does this happen to anyone else? I mean, I haven’t even seen this girl in 9 months and she’s emailing me pictures of her tits in order to make me fuck her again. Please tell me this happens to other people, I can’t handle this shit…

Fucking finally…

OK, let’s ignore the fact I was told I was going to be served more than 3 weeks ago, and when I asked about it on Monday The Soon to be Ex-Wife said her lawyer said I was already served, but she’ll double check. When she got back to me last night, she insisted that I had been served the divorce papers even though I had never been. When I call my lawyer this afternoon asking him if we had been served he looked into it and told me that according to her lawyer, I had talked to the constable and she was going to serve me at 8 tonight, even though I hadn’t talked to anyone and I would definitely choose not to be served in front of the boys, who were staying with me tonight. And let’s ignore the fact my bell didn’t ring until past 8:30 tonight. Let’s ignore these minor details. Let’s focus on the good things…

Female constable: Hi NothingofConsequence. (seeing the pen I have in my ear, not that I’m ready or anything) It looks like you’re looking forward to this.
Me: Who me? What gave it away.
Constable: (smiling broadly at me) I don’t know, you just seem a little excited.
Me: Excited? No. Giddy, I’ll concede. I almost feel like I should give you a hug…
Constable: (almost blushing, I think I embarrassed the cougar of a constable) well…
Me: I know, it wouldn’t be appropriate. Thank you, and please, have a wonderful night. I mean it.

Fuck, if I was sure I would have been the first guy to nail the constable who served him his divorce papers, I most definitely would have taken a run at her, she was definitely older, but still a pretty satisfactory cougar. And I’m definitely one for making a good story when I see the opportunity. Fuck, that would have been awesome…

Things a father worries about

I lost track of where The Prodge was at one point tonight. Turns out the little rodent was in the bathroom. What he was doing was mind blowingly frightening…

I look in and he’s running the GirlFriend’s razor up and down his leg like he’s shaving it. Dear god, not only does this remind me I did not go through the house and remove all of the evidence that she exists, The Prodge, my boy, the apple of my eye, is feigning shaving his legs. I wanted to cry…

Post Script

I was texting the GirlFriend about this horrible, horrible mishap:

Her: That’s so adorable!
Me: Says you.
Her: Well he is the Prodge, he takes after you.
Me: I would never shave my legs. I trim them down… there’s a difference… I swear.

Yeah, he really, truly is the Prodge…

Clever…

It’s well known amongst my circle that I’ve never done an illicit drug in my life. This isn’t because of some holier than thou attitude I have (after all, I was stealing Balantine half quarts at the age of 11 and drinking them in the woods) but me knowing my addictive personality and knowing how much trouble I could get myself into. That being said, after many conversations with the GirlFriend, I decide that I want try pot with her. She managed to score some from her friend, but forgot her bowl. I was tasked with finding a smoking apparatus, so I tried to be clever and I emailed The Wingman, thinking I was being slick, and asked him if he “had a bowl (you know for like chips or something…) that I could borrow.” I just assumed he knew what I meant. He calls me and says sure come on by, no problem. I go there, he greets me outside, like we arranged…holding a giant freaking bowl.

Me: Dude, something tells me you misinterpreted what I meant by bowl.
The Wingman: (pause) Oh shit, yes I did, now I feel stupid. (Hey, I was wrecked.  -Ed.)
Me: Well what can we do?
TW: Dude, it’s in my freezer, how am I going to get it without alerting my wife?
Me: Go grab me some steaks…
TW: Good idea…back in a few.

He runs upstairs for a couple of minutes leaving me to laugh at the situation and comes back down. He asks to get in the car to give it to me. He puts the steaks in the bowl and then pulls out his stash and asks me how much I need.

Me: Dude, I don’t need any, I need something to smoke it in.
TW: Oops. Well take this anyway.

He proceeds to dump a portion of his stash into the bowl and says “Don’t get pulled over..” Yeah, thanks for the tip. Now I have to drive home with a huge bowl with frozen steaks and weed in it.  All I wanted was a pipe or something to smoke it in. I think it’s safe to say I out clevered myself.