Halloween Storytime-Guess what, this story is totally true.
On crisp Halloween night a girl named Rus-crap, let's call her Bette. Anyways, a girl named Bette crushed on a bloke who looked an awful lot like Orlando Bloom. Not the Orlando Bloom of 2011 but more like the one a decade earlier when he played Legolas on Lord of the Rings. This guy of Bette's heart was rocker-hott, long blonde hair with leather pants and a leather cuff on his wrist. Can we say swoon?
Anyways, back to the Halloween night from hell. Rus-er, Bette accidentally lit herself on fire.
The goal of the night was to dress in a super yummified costume. Bette wanted to go as a SWAT team member, cute lil skirt and all. But due to lack of dinero, she had to go as a vamped up Snow White. Which super-hottie Rocker didn't mind at all.
On that night, they bought a whole slew of pumpkins and ran them over with his Mustang. Which did you know if you run over pumpkins repeatedly, you will get a flat tire? After laughing so hard their lungs hurt, they explored the whole town hand in hand.
When super-hottie Rocker took her home the moment of the big kiss at the door step loomed over the two. Rocker put his hands through his long hair and then grabbed Bette's waist. He stole a long, passionate kiss.
Bette was majorly grooving on the guy. She adjusted her feet and grabbed the bloke's hair. She felt a lit Jack o' Lantern near her toes but didn't care. Rocker had her hooked with his soft lips.
And she continued to not care, so much that her long dress grazed over the top of the lit jack o' lantern. The hem of her dress caught on the flame of the candle and because Karma has it in for her the dress caught on fire.
Russ-er, Bette didn't even notice until Rocker sniffed the air and said, "Do you smell a fire?"
Flames danced around the hem of her dress and thankfully, the only thing that saved her legs from burning was her leather boots. Well, her leather boots AND Rocker, who came to her rescue.
The actual fire was put out but in its place a new fire had totally taken over Bette and Rocker. Ah, the flames of love. And man, do they consume and fast.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
I got mistaken for a hooker
Yep, the title is right. And to think I wasn't even wearing my thigh high leather boots.
Lemme give you the dirt. I was a tad cranky because I wasn't able to see Lion King with Maegan and Janiel this weekend. The past few days have been filled with redunkulous demands. So, instead of stressing I found a way to bargain with my bestie, Jameses. I would deliver his four large boxes of hair products to a salon downtown, if he would go to the bank for me and take some money out of my account. I needed some dough for a serious shop-a-thon.
After our errands, we'd meet up up at the sushi bar for grub. So, after nearly falling flat on my face while walking up ten flights of stairs in my bold buckled stiletto-heeled booties. And getting stuck in traffic. Not to mention accidentally flashing the bloke in the car next to me, I arrived at the bar and plunked my toukus down on the stool. Jameses kissed me on the cheek and passed me a wad of cash.
The server, who looked like a cross between Frankenstein and Chris Brown, couldn't stop staring. He stared at my booties and curve hugging dress and said, "We don't allow your type in here."
Jameses went into a fit, his eyes nearly went cross-eyed as he said, "Is it because I'm gay?"
The guy did a double take and said, "We don't care about that, its just . . . you can't pay a hooker and expect me not to say something."
I launch into a giggling fit and start flipping my head around, trying to find the lady of the night. I take a sip of my lemon water and say, "Wait, where is she? I wanna see."
The server then fidgets as he stands in place and says, "Ma'am, don't play coy. I know what you are."
My excitement vanishes as I realize I won't see the hooker because this bloke thinks I'm the hooker. I'm baffled because why wouldn't he think differently? I'm wearing stiletto booties and being handed a wad of cash by a man who freely kisses me on the cheek and smacks my rump when I hit the restroom.
So, instead of getting pissed at this server's assumptions, I smile widely. At least he thinks I worth a wad of cash. Sure, the bills might be ones but the server doesn't know that, all he sees is a wad of $dinero.
The lesson is simple-sometimes people will judge you. You can't control where their mind will go but the trick is to not care. Which is harder than ever at times.
Lemme give you the dirt. I was a tad cranky because I wasn't able to see Lion King with Maegan and Janiel this weekend. The past few days have been filled with redunkulous demands. So, instead of stressing I found a way to bargain with my bestie, Jameses. I would deliver his four large boxes of hair products to a salon downtown, if he would go to the bank for me and take some money out of my account. I needed some dough for a serious shop-a-thon.
After our errands, we'd meet up up at the sushi bar for grub. So, after nearly falling flat on my face while walking up ten flights of stairs in my bold buckled stiletto-heeled booties. And getting stuck in traffic. Not to mention accidentally flashing the bloke in the car next to me, I arrived at the bar and plunked my toukus down on the stool. Jameses kissed me on the cheek and passed me a wad of cash.
The server, who looked like a cross between Frankenstein and Chris Brown, couldn't stop staring. He stared at my booties and curve hugging dress and said, "We don't allow your type in here."
Jameses went into a fit, his eyes nearly went cross-eyed as he said, "Is it because I'm gay?"
The guy did a double take and said, "We don't care about that, its just . . . you can't pay a hooker and expect me not to say something."
I launch into a giggling fit and start flipping my head around, trying to find the lady of the night. I take a sip of my lemon water and say, "Wait, where is she? I wanna see."
The server then fidgets as he stands in place and says, "Ma'am, don't play coy. I know what you are."
My excitement vanishes as I realize I won't see the hooker because this bloke thinks I'm the hooker. I'm baffled because why wouldn't he think differently? I'm wearing stiletto booties and being handed a wad of cash by a man who freely kisses me on the cheek and smacks my rump when I hit the restroom.
So, instead of getting pissed at this server's assumptions, I smile widely. At least he thinks I worth a wad of cash. Sure, the bills might be ones but the server doesn't know that, all he sees is a wad of $dinero.
The lesson is simple-sometimes people will judge you. You can't control where their mind will go but the trick is to not care. Which is harder than ever at times.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Embarrassing moment alert
October Challenge: Halloween month adventures
This week was my step dad's 60th birthday and the one thing he asked from me was to head out of town and hit fruit stand way.
He expected a purely country experience where we browsed though side street produce stands and heard the crunch of Fall leaves on the ground. His eyes shined as he talked about his picturesque weekend where the family sipped apple cider on a porch, listened to nothing but the quietness of the mountains. Unfortunately, what he got was the exact opposite of his wish.
Sure, we drove up the mountains and enjoyed the cool fall weather but we also got a flat tire. No biggie. My date, who was a country boy from the deep South, helped fix the flat. I was completely baffled that this bloke was mine and began to pace the asphalt. I stared at the trace of black smudged all over his cheek and thought, "Oh, yeah, this dude has earned his bonus points-changing a flat, spending time with my 'rents."
So, instead of watching my footing, I get distracted as my mom begins screaming, like she has a squirrel in her shirt.
And instead of acting cool and just glancing around to see what was up, I began screaming as well. Me and nature so don't mix.
My mom's hands are shaking and she says, "Skunk, look out."
But she's too late, I end up tripping over the skunk and as a sweet gift to my sorry-butt the lil animal emitted his nasty smell all over me.
The skunk tottered off and at this point, I am shocked. I stand there with my mouth open and staring at everyone's grossed out faces.
My mom glances at the fixed SUV and says, "You smell like someone wiped cow dung all over you."
I cannot stop giggling as I say, "Really? I thought I smell like lavender and cake."
I then get delegated to the back of the SUV by the groceries, produce and etc. My long legs are crammed and I am sitting on a flashlight. I smell like cow dung, as my mom repeatedly reminds me. I am as uncomfortable as a hobbit in a hatbox.
With a sigh, I wipe the dirt off my legs. I lean to my left and rest my head on the seat in front of me. To my surprise, hott country guy turns and faces me. He places his calloused hand on my arm and wipes the hair out of my face.
There are no thoughts of skunks or flat tires, I feel rejuvenated and calm.
Needless to say, Fall is my new fave season-thanks to a country boy from the deep South.
This week was my step dad's 60th birthday and the one thing he asked from me was to head out of town and hit fruit stand way.
He expected a purely country experience where we browsed though side street produce stands and heard the crunch of Fall leaves on the ground. His eyes shined as he talked about his picturesque weekend where the family sipped apple cider on a porch, listened to nothing but the quietness of the mountains. Unfortunately, what he got was the exact opposite of his wish.
Sure, we drove up the mountains and enjoyed the cool fall weather but we also got a flat tire. No biggie. My date, who was a country boy from the deep South, helped fix the flat. I was completely baffled that this bloke was mine and began to pace the asphalt. I stared at the trace of black smudged all over his cheek and thought, "Oh, yeah, this dude has earned his bonus points-changing a flat, spending time with my 'rents."
So, instead of watching my footing, I get distracted as my mom begins screaming, like she has a squirrel in her shirt.
And instead of acting cool and just glancing around to see what was up, I began screaming as well. Me and nature so don't mix.
My mom's hands are shaking and she says, "Skunk, look out."
But she's too late, I end up tripping over the skunk and as a sweet gift to my sorry-butt the lil animal emitted his nasty smell all over me.
The skunk tottered off and at this point, I am shocked. I stand there with my mouth open and staring at everyone's grossed out faces.
My mom glances at the fixed SUV and says, "You smell like someone wiped cow dung all over you."
I cannot stop giggling as I say, "Really? I thought I smell like lavender and cake."
I then get delegated to the back of the SUV by the groceries, produce and etc. My long legs are crammed and I am sitting on a flashlight. I smell like cow dung, as my mom repeatedly reminds me. I am as uncomfortable as a hobbit in a hatbox.
With a sigh, I wipe the dirt off my legs. I lean to my left and rest my head on the seat in front of me. To my surprise, hott country guy turns and faces me. He places his calloused hand on my arm and wipes the hair out of my face.
There are no thoughts of skunks or flat tires, I feel rejuvenated and calm.
Needless to say, Fall is my new fave season-thanks to a country boy from the deep South.
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