My friends have never stopped telling this story to girls I meet.
One late night I went to a local bar with a female friend (the GPO on Ann St., for Brisbane goons). Was sitting there, chatting, minding my own business, when a girl came up, smiled, and said "Hey, do you remember me?". I did not. But she was hot; about 5'9, brunette, miniskirt, so I smiled back and told her that I did not, and enquired where she thought she knew me from. Apparently I had danced with her a few months back (I still don't remember this), and one thing led to another and we danced and danced and made out and made out some more.
We were getting along really well. She asked me what my dreams were in life. I gave the template response of "Oh, I wouldn't mind working for the UN one day." I then asked her the same question. The ensuing conversation went something like this:
"So, what are your dreams?"
"Oh, I don't really want to say."
"Why not? You can tell me."
"It's just that when I tell people they either fall silent or walk away."
"Come on, I promise I won't do either. What is your dream in life?"
"Well...I have a stomach tumour, and my dream is to live until I'm 25."
Unsure how to proceed, bearing in mind that I couldn't not say anything and being sufficiently boozed, I picked up my glass, held it up to her, downed the rest in one swift movement and blurted out:
"Well, at the rate I'm going you'll outlive me anyway."
The conversation went downhill after that.
At work: I am heading out to my car, and saying goodbye to my coworkers. I raise my hand to wave goodbye, but I'm holding my keys in my hand so the end result is that I sort of shove my fist in the air. Two of my coworkers look confused, and half heartedly raise their fists in the air while another three of them just stare at me. It is then that I realize that I work at a hip hop radio station, and that I, the whitest dude in the world, just gave the most awkward black power salute ever to my black coworkers.
i was at some house party a couple of years ago, and we we're all pretty shitfaced, but anyway the girl-who's-house-it-is's mother comes home (also pretty shitfaced) and starts jokingly laying into her daughter saying stuff like "oh you drunken pricks, fucking up my house, you'd never see me getting drunk" and stumbling around. so the girl says something like "seriously, fuck off, you're a fucking embarrasment" and the mother looks at me and says "can you believe her?? would you ever talk to your mother like that?". i was pretty drunk and thought it would be funny to wind her up so i said, with a completely straight face:
"my mother is dead, and i'll thank you not to mention it"
the lady's face dropped, and everyone went quiet for a couple of seconds before i shouted "HAHA NAH ONLY JOKING", but instead of everyone bursting out laughing and applauding my inexhaustable wit and charm like i had expected, the room just went completely quiet and i mumbled something like "oh fuck off i was joking" and swaggered into another room.
turns out i was sitting right next to an orphan, who was best friends with the girl throwing the party, and everyone fucking knew about her being an orphan except me.
I went to a party with a friend of mine and three girls we had just met. One of them Loran if I remember correctly was pretty hot. We all ended up going back to her dorm room a midnight pizza. Loran put on a movie and everyone left after about twenty minutes.
I was enjoying the movie so I decided to stay, plus there was the possibility of some action. I'm sitting in the recliner next to the bed she is lying in. Here's where I get smooth. Loran, "My bed is SOOO soft." I recognise the obvious invitation here but I am really fucking lazy. So I respond, "Thats awesome." I finish the movie and walk home.
A couple of years back while at a show I was introduced to a girl by a mutual friend. She was very cute but since we were both extremely shy our conversation ended up consisting mostly of uncomfortable pauses with both of us just looking around trying to pretend that we didn't feel stupid. Eventually we went our seperate ways without even a goodbye and I spent the rest of the night wishing that someone would just hit me in the head with a sledgehammer and end of my miserable existence.
Towards the end of the night as I'm getting ready to leave I feel I tug on my arm and turn around to see the girl standing there staring down at the ground, obviously nervous as hell. She briefly looks up and shoves a piece of paper into my sweaty palm.
"Heres my number. Call me."
At this point I didn't know what to do as I figured that I had completely blown my chances of ever speaking to this girl again, much less getting her phone number. I searched my head for something to say but all that I was able to get out was,
"*blink*...ummmmm...Thank you very much."
Watch out ladies, I'm a real smooth operator.
was shooting pool at the bar just down the street from my place of employment with my buddy Wayne. He's a blast to drink with and quick with funny stories, cut downs, general clowning, etc. We affectionately call him "Waynedang". Any night spent drinking with Wayne was too short. We are about four beers into our pool match when the night appeared to be getting better.
In walked major babe from work. I'll call her Ann. Top heavy as long, tan, pretty, with an ass that was just this side of too big. Ann was at least 4" taller than I, but I swore to Wayne that I just a few beers away from "handling that shit". For but a moment I convinced myself that Ann was going to end up on the business end of some serious POW POW! She works in my department. She has a rare mixture of hot, friendly, funny, and smart. I smile to myself in premature triumph.
Ann walked to the bar and was hugged by the 2nd biggest shit kicking hick mother fucker in the history of this pool hall. I'll call him Tex. I'm actually not certain he wasn't the biggest. That's just fucking great. Who was I kidding anyway? No way I could pull that on my best day. I started to focus my attention back to the beer and the mud hole I'm getting stomped into my ass on table #5. My colleague points out the fat assed-rat faced dicktroll who we'll call Bonnie was present with Ann and Tex. Bonnie is not attractive and there is not enough beer in this bar to change that. Bonnie is also a cunt to everybody at work. Everybody but me. I took heat from time to time for being friendly with a really ugly bitch that was just downright rude to my co-workers. I don't hate her, but I don't like her.
Waynedang waives the crew over to our table just to be a dickhead. As I shake hands with Tex, I notice the length of his hand is approximately equal to the distance between my wrist and elbow. This guy is so big, it seems he missed his calling as a professional wrestler. He's cool though and we get along with a few games of alternating shot team 8 ball. Ann is looking me up and down like I'm so much lunch. It's uncomfortable. Ann asks me if I would like to go to a night club. I'm way too smart for that though. No fucking way I'm going to be stuck with Bonnie while Tex grinds away the night with the object of my desire. I decline and announce I'm about to head to the best party ever. No party existed you see, I was just being the man. Smooth, no?
After they left, Wayne asks me to explain why I didn't go with Ann to the club. I told him that no matter how easy she was to look at, I'm not going to jump on the grenade that is Bonnie and play wingman for some dude I didn't know. The next words that came out of his mouth would haunt me in nightmares for years. "Tex is with Bonnie you idiot".
I got dragged along to a party by a friend, and there I saw a bunch of people I hadn't seen in about a year that I had gone to school with. Everything was fine, caught up, hugged some friends, mingled etc etc. After a while I was standing over by the TV talking with a guy about park rangers I think, when this girl comes up and starts sort of spreading her arms and getting closer to me. I figure she just wants a goodbye hug because she's leaving or something (girls I knew in highschool always felt safe getting touchy-feely with me because I was the closest thing to a Eunuch they could find, I guess) so I oblige and hug her and say it was great seeing her again. She looks at me pretty awkwardly and points to her purse that was behind me resting on the TV, telling me she was just trying to get to it.
The embarassing thing about this is that it's the same girl from my other smooth moment, the taking her purse to the bathroom one.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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