Tuesday, October 04, 2005

I miss...

...hackey sack
...Mickey Mouse ears
...chewing 5 pieces of gum at once and almost choking on sugary saliva
...Poochie (for girls!)
...Watching Laura Ingalls try to get Manly to give her the time of day
...trying to find Lookie, who was hidden in the scenery on She-Ra
...peanut-butter and honey on whole wheat
...red-dyed pistachio nuts

Monday, October 03, 2005


Saturday was unreal.

I got a call from Bret, inviting me to come hang out at his place cause some people were over to watch a football game and eat some chili. I dislike football, and chili is something that I was not sure my system would be able to handle yet, and I hate most people... but I agreed to go over because I am nothing if not social.

I arrived at Bret's house an hour or so later, and hung out with some people with whom I used to work. We talked over old times and traded new gossip about old coworkers, and I had some mild chili - which did not affect me adversely at all. Bret gave us all button-down denim shirts that his neighbor gave him from the Nebraska lottery. Hey, free shirt. They told me that later they were planning on going over to some party at a friend's apartment. The guy works at Paypal, where I have applied for employment. I insinuated myself into the invitation, because I am nothing if not social.

We stopped to get some beer to bring with us. Because I despise Bud, and because the rest of the selection was asstastic, I bought myself a Heineken. We brought our beers with us to Allen's apartment, where I eschewed the jungle juice (too much sugar for my delicate system to handle) and drank my beer. We watched The Stewie Griffin Story and joked and chatted, and watched these two drunk blonde girls who were both named Stephanie repeatedly almost knock over a voluminous cup of jungle juice. These people were not people I would normally hang out with, but I was having fun, because I am nothing if not social.

Allen's girlfriend Leigh got home. She made a bee-line for the spot next to me on one of the sofas. Within moments, I was her new best friend. I was immediately regaled with stories about all her likes and dislikes and her jobs and her service in the air force. Then she asked me if I would go on a run to the gas station with her to buy Jaegermeister. What the hell, I'm nothing if not social.

When we reached the gas station, I looked around for something on which to nosh. I tried to walk past this group of three men, who didn't want to get out of my way. I said, "Excuse me, please" and the guy who was in my way flirtingly said "Where are you trying to go?" I managed to get past them, and I glanced back to find out what they were doing. They were looking at my ass. I haven't been checked out in a long while, but even though I was surprised that I was being checked out, I was not especially flattered. I'm social, but not that social.

We got back to the party, and Leigh tried to ply me with Jaeger shots. I agreed to one, and somehow found myself doing two. I drew the line there, because I did not want to puke up all my beer. There were a couple of new attendees at the party. One of them, a very sweet black man who had brought some pills for Leigh to take to pass a piss test for the job that she's applying for (rolling eyes), sat down next to me and chatted about my beer choice. He told me that he likes Heineken, too. I told him that it was the lesser of the evils from the choices available at the gas station, and that normally I like darker stuff. A hush fell while we all realized how that sounded, and then we all laughed. The guy winked at me and I elbowed him playfully. I'm nothing if not - well, this gimmick is getting old and there is a lot more story, so I am going to cut it out.

Leigh came back into the room and demanded that the guy move so she could sit next to me. Then she climbed on me and straddled my lap and showed me her pierced nipples. I was a little stunned, and a little turned on. She is very cute and definitely my type. Then I noticed that Allen was looking very much not pleased, and so I tried to refrain from encouraging her. Allen sat down a little way away from me, on the other side of where Leigh was sitting (during the times that she was not writhing on my lap). She pulled down her jeans and shook her lacy-pantied ass at me and Allan. She danced around a little. I chatted with other people for a while, and Leigh focused more on getting my attention. Because some level of attention was clearly what she wanted, and because I was starting to feel the shots, I drew my hand back to give her a little swat on the butt, and Allen leaned over and said, "Don't even think about it. I'll punch you in the face and break your fucking glasses in half."

I lowered my hand and stared at him. I tasted several responses in my mouth. I looked around to see if anyone had heard what he had said. No one had. I finally decided on saying, "I'm not after your girlfriend. I was just flirting because it's a party. If anything made you uncomfortable, you could have just told me. There is no need to threaten me physically." He then responded, "That's how I'm telling you."

Now, the pre-medicated me, and the me who was not waiting to hear back about a job in the same workplace as this Allen person, would have probably gotten into a fistfight at this point. However, the me that I am today (and was on Saturday) decided that diplomacy was a better course of action. I offerred my hand to shake and said, "Let's just shake hands and kill this tension. There's no need for a fight here." He grudgingly shook my hand, but I could tell that he was not backing down an inch. I was still peeved about having been threatened, and I noticed that my friends looked like they were starting to say their goodbyes (great timing!) I called Leigh over to talk to her privately in the hallway, and she insisted that I go into the bathroom with her. God, I hate being in a bathroom while another woman is peeing.

I told Leigh about what Allen had said, and how I was planning on leaving. She said, "Oh, don't mind what he said, he's just worried because he's never had another woman living with him and he's worried about losing me because I am actively bisexual and he knows that I want to eat pussy while he's fucking me, but that I won't let him touch another woman if we have a threesome." I started to phrase a reply to that about how it's ridiculous to set a restriction like that if they've invited someone to share intimacy with them, but then I realized that I wanted to extricate myself from these crazy-ass people as soon as possible. As I left, I shook Allen's hand again and thanked him for his hospitality, and refrained from telling him that if he had an issue with his girlfriend's flirtation that he should take it up with her. He walked me out and closed the door behind me a little too loudly and I heard the lock click. Whatever.

I walked up the stairs, where Bret was lying sprawled where he had fallen. I had never seen Bret that drunk before, and I have seen Bret drink a lot. I took his arm despite his protests that he was fine, and convinced him to let me hold his arm by telling him that I needed him to help me walk because I had been drinking, too. I then prevented him from falling 4 more times in the 30-yard walk to Charity's car.

On the way back to Bret's house where my car was parked, I told them all the story of what had occurred. Joe told me that if he'd heard Allen threaten me, he would have hit him. I thanked him for the sentiment and expressed relief that he had not heard. I told them that I had not been the center of so much attention in a long time, and that it was kind of surprising to me. Joe told me that I had an allure because of my confidence. I shrugged and said that I didn't really realize I was that confident. Then Bret chimed in.

Oh, dear Bret. I love him dearly, but his tact is lacking even when he's NOT drunk. Sweet little Bret slurred, "Jess, I'm going to be blunt. You're not model material. You know that. You're not model quality because of your thighs and your waist, and... well, I'll be blunt, you're not model quality..." and then I said "Is there a point, Bret?" and he said "You're not model quality, but you... and Michael loves... and" and he trailed off. I know he meant well, but dear God! I hugged him and kissed the top of his bald little head and said, "Thank you Bret, but please shut up."

When we got back to his place, I walked him inside against more protests, and kept him from falling another few times. I hugged him and Joe and Charity, and then got into my car and went home. So remind me again why I'm social? Oh yeah - for blogfodder.