Okay, I have officially been sick for four days. I am cashing in personal hours at work like Donald Trump gets checks. This sucks. For all of you able bodied healthy people out there, you might want to look into this opportunity:
I don't know if anyone is up for a trip to Owings Mills, but this sounds like a party, and these girls look like they are READY TO GO. I can't wait until MY town of residence shows up in one of these ads, let me tell you. Readers, don't ever say I haven't done anything good for you, even with a temperature of 101 I am still as selfless as ever. I keep thinking about these girls. "Mom, I got a modeling job!" Eureka! Those trailer payments were getting to be too much!
Anyway, FP wanted me to recount the events of two weekends ago, the AGM of the So Happy Hash. So, drunk ass Cockspur and drunk ass, well uh, me, decided that we would make everyone in the party think that we were seconds away from coming to blows. Okay, so who would win in a fight? Cockspur or Bleeder? If you look at the names alone, it doesn't look good for our hero, We've Got a Bleeder. Bleeders, as we all know, bleed. Cockspur has a spur in his name, and those things are sharp, he could put an eye out. Not to mention that if he actually had a cock in his spur, or a spur in his cock, that means he is pretty tough.
Well, we didn't fight, so it is a moot point anyway. We had the whole party trying to get us to make up, which I found out is a polarizing action. That is, anyone involved will either love you, or hate you. Metro Ho wanted us to make up so bad that she dragged us out in a dark alley. She left us there. ALONE.
Bleeder: "I think she WANTS us to fight! Dude, rip my shirt."
Cockspur grabs my undershirt (the one I might wear again) instead of my pirate shirt (the one that I will probably never wear again unless I am in some strange Seinfeld re-enactment) and RRRIIIPPP! I am milking this one. I walk in and the first person to make eye contact was SMEYAC.
Me: "Keep that motherf*cker away from me."
I didn't look back, but evidently a bunch of people jumped in front of Cockspur. I was having a great time, that is until Certified left at around 2.
Certs: (paraphrasing): "You guys both suck and I hate you both, I am leaving."
After that, Cockspur sort of well, fell apart.
Cockspur: "Dude, everyone hates me, and you Kane, you let me do it! You were in on it!"
Kane: "Yeah, but it was funny."
Cockspur: "But everyone hates me now!"
Kane: "That's funny too!"
There you go FP, my end of the story.
I laughed the next day when someone said something about me consoling you at the party. The way I remember it was more like this...
NV: Blah, bla, blah, Cockspur has something up his a**, blah, blah, blah.
Weeeee!: Just leave him alone and enjoy the party. You two are being stupid.
NV: Blah, bla, blah, Where is Cockspur? He better f'ing stay upstairs!, blah, blah, blah.
Weeeee!: You two are acting like 10-year-old girls. Grow the f*ck up!
Now, maybe it's because of the Southern Hospitality I grew up with, but this doesn't sound consoling to me.
Posted by: Weeeeee! | October 31, 2005 at 11:35 AM