The Quiz

How many times have you been to the bar and met someone??? Well for me, it’s like maybe 10. I give my phone number out sparingly. And even when I do, I have to admit almost 9 times out of 10 I wish that I didn’t. The guy usually ends up being the biggest motard of them all and that’s hard to beat. Ok, so this Saturday I went out to the Red Room, Down on Colfax and Grant, with Ericka, Sarah, Brooke, Erik and miscellaneous friends. The Red Room, well known for being the only “civilized” bar on Colfax, was more or less a breeding ground for the intoxicated and the ugly on Saturday night. We are just sitting there having some drinks and chatting it up… Since it was Ericka and I, you know what we were talking about… Men. Lol. And then the best song in the world comes on the jukebox… Boogie On Reggae Woman by Stevie Wonder. That’s my jam!!! After the song was done, I decided that I wanted to hear it again, so I went up to the jukebox and started scrolling through the list. That’s when “Mr. Wonderful” came up and propped his arm up next to the wall and said “Are you dedicating that song to me?” Now, I was just having a conversation with Ericka about how it’s basically impossible for me to open up to a man, and how I’m probably going to have to force myself to act that way, because it’s just not coming naturally these days. So when the guy spit out that cheese ball line I didn’t knock him down, I decided let’s actually talk to this person, instead of just sending him back to his friends crying. At first he was real nice, looking me in the eye and smiling and laughing… It was kinda nice to speak to a man who wasn’t looking at the ground or the ceiling, or his beer label. Eyes are key; I have a hard time looking men in the eye. Just cuz once I read that if you look a man in the eyes, he’s 10 times more likely to think there is a connection between the two of you, and well I don’t want to give any creeps the wrong idea. I don’t want to go around making every guy fall in love with me, now do I??? That’s a joke!!! By this time, my good friend Ericka would have probably already broken us up, but she didn’t because she looked over and saw him looking me in the eyes and she was like “Ah what a sweetheart.” She must have missed the part 5 seconds later when he took out a minute or two to stare right into those mountains of glory on my chest. Now I love my breasts, I wear things the way I do because I love my body. But I don’t want a guy starring at my breasts for 10 minutes when he knows he should be looking elsewhere. My boobs are gigantic, but not important enough to take five whole seconds to sit and stare at the beasts, and ignore whatever unimportant thing I’m saying (We know… I ramble). After he did that, I was confused as to open up and forget what he had just done, or tell him to fuck off. So I gave him the quiz… And unfortunately most men can’t pass it, and it’s really sad, cuz it’s pretty easy. So 5 minutes later when he asked for my phone number I said “Sure, but first tell me what my name is?” and he was like “I don’t want to say it because it will butcher it.” And I said “Fair enough, tell me what letter it starts with???” He was just punching buttons on his phone, fumbling through that little brain of his trying to remember… And I said “Ok, name one letter in the whole thing.” As expected he couldn’t remember. It’s really sad when a grown man can’t remember a simple thing such as a name… I know my name isn’t easy but I’m sure he wasn’t really listening to it anyway. I guess that’s why Mary and Jason call my boobs the “Boobies of Evil.”

Comments

[Jesse Shelly]

[this is good] Between us speaking the answer to your question I have found in google.com