Yesterday, I discovered something so powerful that it shook the foundations of the pharmaceutical industry. The tremors were so terrible, that E.Shrew had to make the rare move of employing cockblocking
. Something he ordinarily doesn't have to do.
My discovery was a freak accident with odds of 1:1,000,000 of it ever happening again. The seeds were sewn when I recently created something called, "The Queen's Cup". It was going to be a friendly standings chart of everyone I play tennis with. With my title of "Consolation Queen", I fully expected to roll over every opponent from this point on. Everyone
would become Whipping Boys. I dreamed of massing a 400-0 record after pinning horrible losses on their asses. Whipping Boy 0-100. E.Shrew 0-100. Monty 0-100. Heath 0-100. The Queen's Cup would be a triumph to my Ego and a bane to their existence.
Or so I thought. Something wicked this way came. The "L" word happened. There is no word greater that I detest more than the "L" word. Afterall, my motto is "Losing is for losers!" I guess I had a target on my back. Proudly showing off my trophy right before each of our matches was probably not
a good idea. It brought out the best in my competitors. The "L" word happened again and again. In fact, in 24 hours I lost ALL THREE of my matches to Monte, Heath and E.Shrew. Six hours of running around and all I had to show for it was a lousy 0-3 record. Son of a Bitch!
I was downright bitter
. So much so, the Shrew threatened to never ever play me again in tennis if I was going to be such a sore loser. I didn't care. I was pissed that I lost to all these people. Here I am, supposedly at the peak in my tennis skills, and I am losing!
When it was time to go out to the bars, I opened up the Shrew's closet. I rescued a tight t-shirt that had been locked up in the dark for years without seeing the light of day. I could almost hear it scream, "Finally! I am saved! Thank you!". I growled as I put it on. It was a perfect fit. I looked stone solid in it. The Shrew suddenly wanted to have sex with me. I was NOT in the mood however. I passed on it. (VERY RARE for me) I was determined to march in that bar and stay in my bitter and angry mood.
As soon as I entered the Bourbon Pub, something was clearly amiss. As I began the fruit loop around the bar, I noticed mouths suddenly drop open with THE LOOK. You know what I am talking about. The look that they just want to completely devour every inch of your body and spirit. I just walked past them with an angry scowl. There will NOT be any smiling or saying "Hiiiiii" tonight God Dammit! Grrr....
As I almost completely made the fruit loop, the hottest fucker in the bar grabbed me and kissed me. I was stunned. This guy NEVER pays attention to me. What in the hell is going on? Hottest Fucker makes a pass at me. I tell him I am bitter and angry from losing three tennis matches in the last 24 hours. He quickly gets out his cell phone and asks me for my number.
At this point, E.Shrew has already turned the corner of the bar and doesn't realize I am not right behind him. Hottest Fucker says he wants to play me in tennis even though I would probably kick his ass. So, I am giving the guy my digits and I sheepishly look over... BUSTED! The Shrew is glaring at me with his evil eye. I quickly put my tail between my legs, hug the guy bye, and head over to where E.Shrew is standing.
"Are we giving out our numbers???!!!", screaches the Shrew in a shrill tone. I lie my ass off and say that the guy simply wants to play me in tennis. I swear I heard E.Shrew's BULLSHIT METER beeping. I try my best, "Hey, it's not my fault he's fine as shit and is hung as a horse! He wants to play me in tennis!" The Shrew wasn't buying it.
Then the Shrew made me kiss him. I looked around and made sure Hottest Fucker wasn't looking and quickly pecked the Shrew on the lips. He was pissed. He wanted a longer kiss. Dammit! I remember thinking, "Dude, you are going to blow my cover!"
Then the unthinkable happens. Hottest Fucker walks over to where we are standing with his cell phone and wants to find out if I got his text message. GULP! I start nervously laughing. Umm... I didn't bring my cell phone out... but I'll respond when I get home. I am shaking with nervousness as the Shrew's Evil Eye glares upon us both.
Hottest Fucker asks, "Is this your boyfriend?" In that second, my first instinct was to say, "No. Who? Him? Oh... puh leazzze! I don't even know him!" A quick vision of my shit and my dogs being hurled over the balcony of the Shrew's second floor condo quickly flashed in my head. My brain sent the correct instruction to my mouth to say, "Yessssss.... this is my (SIGH).... boyfriend." I cringed having to saying it.
I introduced the two rivals for my love and we shared an awkward five minutes of nodding and smiling. The Shrew proudly put his arm around me. With the cockblocking noose now firmly in place, Hottest Fucker soon left my side. My loins screamed, "Nooooooooo!!!!! Wait a minute.... come back!!!" He didn't. So, I had to settle for hanging around the boyfriend and our friend Greg the rest of the night. Blah.
So we get home and the Shrew wants to pounce again. I was still bitter and angry about losing, so I kept my knees locked. A rare occurrence.
It is at this point that I discovered the secret to getting laid
. Walking around bitter and angry actually turns some people's crank! No matter what put me in that mood... my chances of getting laid increased ten fold! Hmmm... no more smiling ear to ear for me from this point forward! Try this on your next visit to the local gym or bar! ;)