Well . . . it’s ten o’clock and I haven’t really found anything interesting to write about. I could write about the interesting sounds coming from the walls in my apartment. I could write about how everyone died laughing the fourth time I erred in my softball game. I could sing the praises of Homestar Runner and the hilarity that ensues when you explore that site. Really, I gots nothin, so I think I am going to tell a story. This is a good one. Not one I’m too terribly proud of, but a good one nonetheless:
So I’m wasted, right. A bunch of GE employees (including my friend, Brian Weintraub) and I are at a UMD (University of Maryland) bar in College Park and we’re havin’ a grand ol’ time with some lovely ladies. These girls decided that they were going to come back to the UMD apartments where Traub lives to have a few drinks with us. When we get there, he starts trying to be smooth with one of the girls, so he’s playing “Kryptonite” or some other absolute crap song on a guitar and singing to it. It was total cheese; I saw a thought bubble emanate from the girl’s head saying “All right, you’re Superman already . . .” and then Roger Lodge cut to commercial.
So the girl I am with are getting cozy with suggests that we leave with her friends and they’d take me home. This is fine with me, but it would be putting the kybosh on my friend’s chances of participation in any extra-libationary co-ed activities. I stayed out of the whole thing, and we ended up leaving within fifteen minutes. On the ride home, it was clear to me that I wasn’t going anywhere else when I got to their place.
We’re in her room and the lights are on. Hands are roving, buttons are coming undone . . . and she gets up to turn off the light. So I am rounding second and . . . well . . . post your e-mail in the comments section or IM me and I’ll send you the end of the story. It includes pictures.