Grenade Jumper, I ain't

A funny thing I noticed about Leo. Whenever he's planning on hooking up with a girl, he makes his bed. Most of the days, his bed looks like mine... a pathetic, wrinkled comforter strewn haphazardly across the mattress.

Shaving, showering, hair cuts, changing clothes... these are aren't nearly as important as tucking in his linens and arranging his pillows in a perfect, symmetrical fashion.

Reminds me of when male birds clean their nests to court female birds. I feel like I study the habits of my roommate as a single male much like Jane Goodall did with the chimpanzee. I jotted on my notepad, "Maybe I should start making my bed."

But unfortunately for my roommate, this was the first time I saw him make his bed and have it not be "used" within a 24 hour period. Here's why...

***

Leo's had his scope on this one girl, but her friend "that shitty girl" is always at her side when they come over. So guess who has to deal with her? I suppose at this point I should give her a name, since I've blogged about her enough. I held it off because I didn't think she'd be around long enough to merit an alias. -sigh- Alright, fine. Let's call her Sherry.

Not only am I not physically attracted to "shitty girl", but having a conversation with her is absolutely painful. It's excruciating. You ever know someone who is "totally into art" and wants to "meet creative minds"? For the record, anyone who says they want to meet "creative minds" is full of shit.

Sherry sits down and pulls up a seat right next to her. "Come here, So@24. Sit down here and tell me something fascinating!"

What the fuck does that even mean? I look to Jenny to save me from this convo. She's busy bouncing quarters into glasses. Figures.

I take a seat and she props her head on her knuckles and smiles (why is that annoying the shit out of me??).

So@24: Where's your drink?

Sherry looks at me like I just asked her the most absurd, out-of-the-blue question anyone has ever received.

Sherry: Why do I need a drink? I don't need to drink to have a conversation.
So@24's Inner Monologue: Ahhh, I should have expected an awkward response from you. Kudos. Kudos. You aren't drinking? You're not the DD? Well, then why did you come to a party??

***

Fast forward to after the bars. It feels like college again. Everyone is hanging out in my room, drinking beers, and iTunes is blaring Toto's "Africa". Jack is laying game on my friend Jenny. Leo is laying his game on his girl. And then there is Sherry. There's absolutely no way I'm going to grenade jump for Leo. Under different circumstances (e.g. him never knowing the warm embrace of a woman, me having an entire bottle of Jaeger, etc.) I would have considered it.

But nope. Not gonna happen. Homeboy can fend for himself on this one.

It's getting late. Sherry is getting a little... ballsy. Leo's girl and Sherry are both laying on my bed, but Sherry at one point wraps her legs around my torso... while I'm standing. Why can't this ever happen with girls that I'm interested in?

So@24 tears off shirt, drops to knees and looks to the heavens: Why!? Whyyyyyyyyyyyy!?

I felt like Dirk the Daring getting crushed by tentacles wrapped around me.

back the eff up, son

Enough's enough. Time to go. Leo's girl does not end up staying the night. Why? She would have, but she has to take Sherry home, of course! Jack leaves. Jenny stays.

Jenny: Can I borrow a pair of boxers and a t-shirt?

Whoa. I have not had to give a girl a pair of boxers and a t-shirt since, God knows how long. But man, it's been awhile.

I drunkenly fumble through some drawers, but one rule I remembered! I found a shirt and a pair of boxers that I really don't like that much, in case she runs off with them. I toss her my green pair of boxers that's design is spattered with burgers and fries.

Jenny:: You only have one pillow!
So@24: Oh right. Uh... Leo? Some help, buddy?

Of course, I only have one pillow. Lynn took her's!

A pillow is thrown from Leo's door frame.

We immediately passed out like kittens, absolutely PLATONIC, of course... it's what good friends do.

Fun w/ MySpace or Do I Look Like a Cherub Part II

Editor's Note: Communication via MySpace. Didn't I just turn a quarter century old?


My response:

Did you mean to send this to my taller, whiter, more shaved head counterpart?

Her response:

Nope, but I'll take that as subtle rejection. But let's hang out anyway. :)

Ahhhhh, a message from Janice:

based on your song [dammit, she knows the 90's classic Timmy T's "One More Try"... alright, you get one point, lucky broad] --

we are soul mates. :)

I'm comin back to h-wood march 28th.
keep that weekend open for some serious hangout time.

I'll consider the boob touching ;)

miss you [insert disgusting, cute playoff on my name] <3>

Sidenote: Can I mention how weirded out I get sometimes that my new boss's name is Lynn? What the fuck, man.



I'm getting drunk tonight.

Do I Look Like a Cherub?

When logging into my various social networking sites this morning, I came across a message that made me go off on a very brief 30 second rant before I decided to direct my energy into something I actually gave two shits about.

That girl wrote:

hey kiddo.
when are we hanging out again?
we're due for another makeout session.

Let's get a few things straight on this matter.

Make out sesh? What make out sesh? I know I have been known to drink in excess and then promptly black the f out. It's not out of the ordinary for me to tend to be a tad forgetful of events that occurred.

But I will remember damn well when I make out with someone.

Can you lie on MySpace? Isn't that illegal? Are you allowed to do that?

Secondly, I totally see right through her tactic.

She just wants to hang out in hopes that my friend Chad will be hanging out and then they can get drunk and then he can take her to Bone Country again.

Why can't girls just be direct with what they want? If you were just honest about what your goal was, I'd have so much more respect for you and will be more than happy to help you in your endeavors for a jam down. Everyone deserves to get their's. I'm like a fucking cherub.


But to try and play it off that you're really interested in hanging out (which I don't really care to do anyway) as if I'm some middle-man and that I'm not privy to it?

Give me a break.

I'm Tired

I'm tired.

I'm that crotchety old man who just finished writing his memoirs. I put my feather pen back in the inkwell. Took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes.

The single guy thing has worn me out to a point where I'm ready to throw my stubby arms up as a signal for surrender.

After work on Friday, Leo and I headed over to our friend's place for a party. Leo had indeed invited the girls over, but I wasn't going to make an effort to start conversation.

While I was chatting it up with my other roommate Kevin and Veronica, I see that girl (I'm not going to take the time to give her an alias, because I don't plan on bringing her up again) come bouncing over to the couches.

So@24's inner monologue: Please don't sit on my lap, please don't sit on my lap, please don't sit on my...

"Hey you!"

I shoot Veronica and Kevin a look and put on my best front. I feel bad that she barely knows anyone there, so I get up from the couch and follow her into the kitchen for a beer. I flip off Veronica and Kevin while I stroll past.

I tried to not show my absolutely boredom and did my best to feign interest, but I just couldn't.

I mean, she's nice enough. But what is "nice" anyway? Anyone can be nice. My grandpa's fucking nice. There's gotta be something more than just having a personality that makes me not want to punch you.

But I'm a good friend and even though Leo didn't need my help to secure her friend, I did offer the "well, I'm beat. I'm heading back, but if you guys want to grab a fifth and join, you should."

Hey. I figure the wingman karma will come around eventually.

Fortunately, they didn't take the bait and wanted to continue to stay out at the bars. I drove home and passed out relatively early for a Friday night.

And as luck would have it, Leo got a makeout sesh from her friend and our friend Chad (see Shitty Couple #1) took the girl to the boneyard. Everyone wins! Hopefully Chad will provide the ample distraction so that I no longer have to endure painful conversations about how she "just wants to meet people with creative minds".

But the whole event opened up a discussing the next afternoon between Kevin and Michelle.

On one side, Kevin suggested that I should have just slept with "that girl". No emotional attachment. She's not UNattractive. He (much like ol' Gancey) has the view that you need to get the first one out of the way after a drought.

Michelle took a different stance saying that, because it's been so long that I need to be physically attracted to the next person. It relieves the stress of trying to force something that isn't there to begin with.

I sat in the middle switching from looking to my left and right, eating Teddy Grahams, and fiddling with a yo-yo.

Chatty Cathys

I never did end up meeting my old acquaintance from college for drinks that night, but we did eventually meet up. This turns out to be a huge godsend, even keeping in mind that I had absolutely no romantic interest in her whatsoever.

She stopped by my house yesterday evening when she got out of her movie. I went out to meet her as she parked, we hugged and then she followed me into our kitchen. After introductions were made, I started asking her about how the film was.

Big mistake.

She kept going on. And on. And on. And on. Something about how she liked "the sound" and something about "the content".

I admit that I'm not one of those types that "pretends" to pay attention. I actually listen; that is, if you're interesting. As luck would have it, she wasn't. And I actually found myself not paying attention to anything spewing from her word hole. I covered up with a lot of "Hmm hmms", "Oh interesting", and "Gotchya"s.

After subtlety texting Leo "Zzzzzzz", she talked more about film and Los Angeles and then it memories came rushing back to me from our brief college experience together. She was the type of drama kid who tries really, really hard to be artsy, but actually... isn't.

Perhaps I am being too harsh, but I'd be lying if I didn't release a sigh of relief when she said she had to meet up with some friends. I guess it could have been worse; she could have been a bitch.

* * *

This morning I wake up to numerous texts from these random girls I've hung out with a small handful of times (one of which is that girl who I got chewed out for not flirting with). And one of them is a walking cliche' of all that is the stereotype of the O.C (you might remember her as Catrina from here).

-shudders-

They are nice enough, but I really have nothing to talk with them about. But that incessantly keep asking me to hang out and when I decline, I get shit from them for it. I feel bad, because I should take it as a compliment that they want to hang out with me as often as they do.

There was a time when I wouldn't have given two shit about worrying if I should be hanging out or not. I would have just said "neh". But I've developed a theory that when you're single, you force yourself to go to these social gatherings that you normally would brush off without thinking twice. I only hang out with them because it's something to do with members of the opposite sex.

I drive out to meet them at a bar to watch "the game"; keep in mind I don't care about professional football. The bar is absolutely packed. It takes me 20 minutes to grab a beer and when I finally meet up with the girls, it's the quick "so what's new" conversation that lasts about 40 seconds before it turns to standing around, sipping our drinks, looking around at anything that might distract us from this terribly awkward moment.

Catrina actually says to me, "Hey! How are you?? Will you buy me a drink? I quit my job and I have no money!"

Those are her exact words. I'm not making this up for comic relief.

"Sure." I just got paid, I'm not going to be a dick. Whatever.

And then Catrina shuffles away with her (my) beverage and returns to tell me a HILARIOUS story.

Catrina: "ohmygodyouwouldntbelieveit. Ijustranintosomerandomguyfrommyhighschool!! isntthatfunny!? ButIhatemyhighschoolsolame. Everyoneatmyhighschoolwassososososolame. SowhenIseepeoplefromschoolI'mlike"yay!" BecauseIfeellikeI'mtherealwinner"
So@24: Uh huh. I see.

After I pound my hefeweizen in record time, I look at my watch and say,

"Yeah guys, I think I'm going to take off. This bar is too loud, I don't care about Packers or the Giants, and it's too crowded."

"Awwwws" were delivered, but I stayed strong and told them we'd meet up later.

* * *

Now I sit and blog. I think it's one of those days where I feel like being alone. Maybe I'll meander over to a bar close by. When they open. In two hours.





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Now playing: Poison - Talk Dirty To Me