Thursday, May 31, 2007


Before Polt runs around telling everyone I died, I decided to honor my blog-once-a-month-even-if-it-kills-me pledge that I made for no reason in some other entry (possibly my last entry) that I am way too lazy to go back and look at.

While I could fill you in on all of the exciting stuff I've been up to like school (Straight A's!), work (shelving my pants off!), or partying (I've been hanging out with my good friend Jose Cuervo way more than I'd like to admit), I know what the people want.

Sordid tales of my love life! And I am here to deliver.

The other day I think I accidentally went on a date.

Now my friend, who we shall call the Pianist, is a great all around guy - cute, funny, smart, and a good kisser (I may have fallen into his mouth, tongue first at a gay bar). Then there's that whole he's sleeping with his neighbor, said he doesn't want to be in a relationship, has more neuroses than a psych ward side of him which one might call his negative qualities.

We frequently go to happy hour and dinner just to hang out and talk because we enjoy each other's company so when he invited me out the other night for dinner I thought this day was like any other platonic and friendly.

He made me pick the eatery (cheap pizza it is) and offered to pick me up but I said that I had to put gas in my car so I would meet him there.

We get there, he asks me what's good, I make my recommendations and ordered the food. I then went to pull out my wallet and he goes "No, put that away" *smacks hand* "I will cover this".

I protested but he was very insistent and I am very poor so I let him do it. So we waited for our meal, ate of the deliciousness that is cheap pizza in a dirty restaurant and then he wanted to get dessert. It was 9 o'clock at night so I told him our options were limited and he was very insistent on having some sort of diabetic nightmare soaked in chocolate sauce and covered in sprinkles. I knew just the place - shithole diner conveniently located across the street (an 8 lane street which he wanted to walk to but because I hate the environment and love oil/living to see tomorrow I drove us over there insisting there was no crosswalk).

After consuming ice cream and cheesecake (that almost cost as much as our meal) the check came... AND HE PICKED IT UP AGAIN!

From there I drove him back to his car (in which he freaked out because he saw there was, indeed a crosswalk) and when we got to the parking lot he asked me for a kiss on the cheek. From there we went our merry little ways.

Now I took a poll and there was general consensus that it was a date, that I was the woman on the date, and that I should have given him a blow job at the very least for buying me dinner.

My friends' are whores what do they know.

Any thoughts people?