this was originally written several weeks ago. not that it matters, I'm just uptight about details. humour me.
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I went to a party this past weekend. I was invited because there were *too many* girls there and they were trying to level things out. I don't know any of these girls, just two friends and the birthday girl. Well, no shit, there was a truckload of women and a Smart Car-load of men.
If you don't know what a Smart Car is you are truly unrefined. Or like me, you're a fan of dragsters and formula 1 cars. Basically a Cro-Magnon Man. Thank God there's a few of us left. Seriously, I'm half drunk typing this right now, thinking about girls. It's taking me about 8 hours to write up three paragraphs.
The point is Smart Cars are really small. They hold two adults and chimp. And maybe a ferret. And some goldfish, but not in bowl. In a baggie.
Anyhow, a lot of these girls were typical LA fair, talking about what cars guys owned (bleh). And they were overdressed for a birthday party in an apartment, more like for clubbing and fishing for the flavour of the week. I didn't think I'd have anything to say, as I am 100 % unavailable, but I ended up talking with a lot of them. A couple of them (not the night on the town ones) were enjoyable to talk with. I swear three of them wouldn't leave me alone. I would excuse myself to talk with other people and invariably they found their way back into conversation with me. I'm sporting a beard. Yo estaba tomando bastante. I keep my great grandfathers ring on my ring finger. I mean, I don't think any of that is a particular draw... I don't know how this shit works. It was a lot of fun, but I certainly don't understand the dynamic... and none were take home to mom material. Not for me, I mean.
So now, I claimed Cro-Magnon status just a paragraph ago, but you know, I still have a soft fleshy heart beating behind my rib cage... and it is running the show right now. If the rest of you Cro-Mag's want to fight about it.... I own a baseball bat. And a sword. Let's go.
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