Sometimes I think my life is funny.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

That Time I Got A Guy To Admit That He'd Like to Have Sex with Bob Barker

I spent New Year’s Eve with my church friends. I don’t go to church, but my friends are young, fun people who go to church, thus they’re my church friends. My church friends consist of girls, gay guys, & one straight guy who is married. It’s actually pretty great because I never have to worry about creepers hitting on me when we hang out.  Plus it’s totally acceptable for me to be covered in more glitter than Kesha in their presence.

When I got to the party I was bombarded with half-hugs and cheek kisses. In Miami there are no personal bubbles. I’m still getting used to it. I no longer jump when they hug/kiss me, so that’s progress, right?

My guess is that this is how it's supposed to go down. 

This is how it goes down with me. 

The one person who did not do this Miami Space Invader move on me was some Italian guy who was just visiting. This surprised me because Italians have no personal boundaries and basically make out with people since they take the cheek kissing thing to an entirely new level.

Italian Style
As surprised as I was, I wasn’t disappointed because I really didn’t want Andrea Bocelli to make out with me. (This was not really Andrea Bocelli because I would make out with that old, blind, sexy man any day. This was just an Italian guy that I called Andrea Bocelli all night.)

Mr. Bocelli said he was touring the US & started in New York, so I interrupted him to tell him that I’m from New York and it’s amazing, and NYC is shit compared to upstate. Then some random guy interrupts me (rude) and tells me upstate NY is shit. Obviously this guy was stupid so I blew him off and decided to demonstrate my incredible Italian skills to Mr. Bocelli. Dove la finestra? (where is the window), desiderio formaggio (I want cheese), tiamo vino! (I love you, wine!). Thank you five years of Italian class! As I was demonstrating my skills, my friend announced that Mr. Bocelli is straight & his family has a vineyard in Italy.

(Straight guy count: 1)

As much as I would love to be attracted to an Italian man who has a family vineyard, I couldn’t get past the fact that his pants were tighter than any pants I own (and I own actual tights) and that he didn’t get my jokes because he spoke English, but not well enough to catch all my witty comments. Nonetheless, I continued talking to him hoping that he’d eventually get one of my jokes instead of giving me blank stares. However, when he told me that he lives in Australia and he’s hit three kangaroos, I was done. I don’t care how many times you tell me that there’s tons of kangaroos in Australia and it was like hitting a squirrel. No. I don’t care. We’re done. Tap out. Stop talking.

This kangaroo wasn't happy with the Italian either. 

By the time Bocelli ruined our conversation we were outside by the fire where my beautiful floor-length red gown was getting a nice smoky scent added to it. When the fire was low Boy Scout came to add more wood. I never actually learned the guy’s name, but I’m sticking with Boy Scout. I assumed Boy Scout was gay because he was at a party with my church friends, but then he seemed a little flirty, so I was confused.

(Straight guy count: 1.5?)

Anyway, it doesn’t matter if Boy Scout was straight or not because I learned pretty quickly that his life goal is to be a complete tool. Mind you, I was drunk and I can tolerate almost anyone when I’m drinking. I usually hate humans, particularly stranger humans. However, when I drink I don’t find them to be all that terrible, in fact, I almost like them. So the fact that Boy Scout was able to make me want to put my head through a glass window was pretty impressive. Boy Scout was the kind of guy that needed to tell me about how right he was about everything. Tell me again how you know all about the Flying Spaghetti Monster when I just made a simple joke about Pastafarianism. The joke was not intended to be a test of your knowledge. It wasn’t even intended to start a conversation. It was a joke. That’s it. Oh, you’re still telling me how much you know about it anyway? Awesome. Let me grab another drink.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster

I got to break away from Boy Scout when the ball dropped and we went down the street to watch the fireworks. As everyone else was kissing, I was just drinking away, happy to be single instead of with all the winners I’ve dated in 2013. Cheers to me! And alcohol! Always cheers to alcohol!

After the fireworks, I continued to cheers myself and alcohol all the way back to the party where I promptly refilled my glass. My dress was soaked in champagne by now since I'm a drunken crippled girl walking with a cup of liquid. Sorry dress. Then Upstate NY Hater approaches me to tell me he’s sorry about earlier and he was just joking. Since he was now professing his love for Upstate NY, I made him talk about seasons, snow, apples, and maple syrup, in that order. I was almost starting to think this guy might be straight.

(Straight guy count: 2.5)

As we were talking some guy interrupted us (rude!) to tell me that I look like Rapunzel from Tangled (never mind, you’re not rude. I love you, let’s get married).  While I was talking to the guy who thought I looked like a princess, some other guy took my Former Upstate NY Hating, Now Upstate NY Loving guy to the couch for some intimate conversation.

(Straight Guy Count: back to 1.5)

Then somehow I got stuck in another conversation with Boy Scout and I was about to throw my forehead into the edge of the counter when Upstate NY Hater/Lover came back and saved the day. He took me outside where I decided we needed to play Kill Fuck Marry. I gave him Lady Gaga, Kesha, & Katy Perry.

He refuses to kill any of them and insists he just wants to play Fuck Fuck Fuck. Fine, I can do that. So I give him Larry King, Donald Trump, and Bob Barker, and made him tell me the order in which he would fuck them. He asks me if he would have to fuck Larry King dead or back when he was alive. Excuse me? This guy seriously thought Larry King was dead. After I educated him on the difference between retiring and dying, he decided to do Larry first, then Donald, and save Bob for last because he thinks Bob would be very encouraging and excited. Pretty solid logic if you ask me.

I'd tap that.
Then I tried to play a drunken version of Price is Right with him but he didn’t know how the game worked, didn’t know what Plinko was, and didn’t understand 90% of my pop culture references. At this point I asked “Has anyone ever told you that they wanted to punch you in the face?” He said no. “Oh, well they probably do. Maybe they’re all just more polite than I am and don’t say it out loud.”

Then I told him he didn’t smell good even though he insisted he was wearing cologne and demonstrated how he put it on. I told him he should make that demonstration into a dance move.

Then he thought Right Said Fred’s most popular song was “Lola” and I flipped a shit because everyone knows that Right Said Fred’s most popular song is “I’m Too Sexy” and that The Kinks sang “Lola,” not Right Said Fred. I expressed my desire to punch him in the face again. It was terrible. I walked away.

To be fair, I also walked away because Spice Girls started playing and I felt compelled to get on the dance floor. Nobody stays sitting when “Wannabe” is on, not even this crippled chick. Oh hell no. I slammed my body down and wound it all around, because when a Spice Girl tells you to do something, you do it!

After rockin’ out to “Wannabe” I got NY Lover/Hater to get on the dance floor, made fun of his terrible moves (if the crippled girl dances better than you, you have a problem), and even got him to do his own version of the “Body Wash.”

If you don’t know what the Body Wash is, please see below. It is one of my absolute favorite dance moves to pull out anywhere. Elevators. The Car. The frozen foods section at the grocery store. Anywhere.

 (In case you were wondering, the intense angry face is mandatory for this move)

Now, he customized his to go with his cologne demonstration from earlier, so it looked more like this:

After dancing he wanted to smoke and so did my friend, so I thought they were going to smoke, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me along. I sat on a wall and my dress got soaked because it had rained earlier. I’m sorry red gown. As they smoked, I continued to make fun of NY Lover/Hater. Then my friend went to get more cigarettes out of her car and out of nowhere NY Lover/Hater kissed me.

(Straight guy count: 2.5 again)

Oh, hello there! Thanks for the sneak attack you secretly straight man! After about 5 seconds, I got bored, stopped kissing him, and went back to making fun of his entire existence. My friend came back, they resumed smoking, and I began proclaiming that I’m a princess.

At 3am I decided I was old and tired, so I said goodbye and one of my friends asked me “So, is he going to buy you a cheeseburger?” (because I regularly proclaim “all I want is a man who can afford to buy me cheeseburgers!”) So apparently others knew he was straight but didn’t give me the memo.

Then NY Lover/Hater walks me outside and tells me he’d love to see me again sometime. I said “only if you like cheeseburgers.” Then he says he’ll get a burger, but no cheese. “Dammit. Are you Jewish so you don’t let your cheese and meat touch? Will you be offended if I do? Cuz this is gonna be a problem if you’re offended by cheeseburgers.” He assures me he won’t be offended and that he likes bacon (okay, so you’re not Jewish), but then he tells me I have “chutzpah.” Wait. I’m really confused, first you’re gay, then maybe straight, then gay, then straight, then Jewish, then not, and now maybe you are Jewish? Not that there’s anything wrong with being Jewish. I have nothing against Jewish people, just people who won’t let me have cheeseburgers.

I go on ranting about everything and he asks me why I’m talking incessantly, so I say “Well, I figured if you wanted to see me again you were going to ask for my number so I was trying to kill some time to help you out since you haven’t done anything.” Then he kisses me again.

Whoa there straight/gay/jewish/non-Jewish/maybe Jewish Sir! I thought you were going to ask for my number, not go all Italian-style on the Miami Space Invader move.

After I got bored kissing him I said “Okay, I’m going home now. Bye.” I started walking away and he asked “aren’t you going to give me your number?” “No, you took too long. I got bored. Goodnight.”  

But he followed me as I got in my car – not in a creepy “I want to kill you” way. Just in a normal, “I’m following you to your car, trying to get your number, but I swear I’m not a stalker” way.

So I gave it to him because I figure he probably won’t actually call me once he sobers up and realizes I spent the whole night calling him uncoordinated, stupid, and old.

And that’s how I spent my New Year’s Eve!

Happy New Year!

Lessons Learned:

1. Don’t wear beautiful gowns to house parties. You’ll just ruin them.
2. Making fun of guys will make them kiss you.
3. Bob Barker would be a great lover.

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