Tuesday, September 29, 2009
B is for Beer Goggles
This morning I woke up hung-over, cotton-mouthed, and still half-stoned. I was about to reach for the hair of the dog that bit me when I turn over and see the hairiest, pudgiest, smelliest male specimen I have ever seen in my life (and I've seen a whole lot of them). I rushed to the bathroom to try to bleach myself clean and hack up the hairballs. After taking a hot shower and gargling mouthwash for half an hour my memory finally returned. He definitely did not look like that last night!
This is how it went down:
Me and Vulvatron went out to some bars as we are accostumed to every Monday. We were doing the usual, buying some Jaegerbombs for dumb fratboys, dancing all seductively, you know working the club. I had past my limit when I downed my 5th martini, but Vulvatron kept egging me on so I went with it. Then some thick necked jocks tried to engage me in a chugging contest-I kicked their sorry asses of course, only after stealing a kiss from the hottest one. So here I am, drunk, but not quite incoherent, my game wasn't suffering, and horny. Vulvatron, who I wholeheartedly blame for the outcome of the night, points out this guy across the bar. She grabs my hand and walks over to him, then abandons me when he starts talking to us. I of course, will take anything I can get at this point and proceed to completely ignore any POA in the bar, except for this guy, whom I'll call Hamster because of his excessive blond body hair and beady eyes. So, we end up at my place, have awkward sex, and here I am trying to scrub blond bushy hairs out of my teeth. On a side not I should mention I did NOT follow my own weeny peeny rules. I urge you ladies, don't be like me, follow them!
Moral of the story: Don't hang out with Vulvatron, AND get a second opinion before you bring home that small awkward hairy man, nursing an MGD 64 in the corner.