Ditzy Queen
I swear. Sometimes I can be so damned ditzy! Yesterday, while packing up the SUV to return back to the country, I left a garbage bag FULL of dirty clothes on the curb where I parked. I didn't realize it until after I got home that I was missing my precious clothes. What a Queen's nightmare to be parted with their clothes?! OMG. That's like being separated from your Daemon! I almost shit a brick right there on the spot in front of E.Shrew and my Dachshunds.
What if homeless people started walking around with my Boiish clothes?! That is going to totally fuck up the marketing cool this company's brand image has. Fuck! Santos and Morales are NOT going to be happy.
I frantically went down my cell phone name list to find someone that lived in the French Quarter close to where I parked. I was in a race against time with the sanitation company and homeless people!
Brian and Greg were obviously in the bars drinking because neither one of those old hags bothered to pick up their cell phones. I took the chance of calling a hot boy who once exchanged cell numbers with me. I blogged about him in The Secret to Getting Laid. He was my only hope!
Hot Boy answered after three rings. There was a big lump in my throat and a little nudge in my pants. "Hi, you may not remember me, but my name is Brett and I need a BIG FAVOR!" Now, he could have just hung up the phone right then and there. I was sweating. But he didn't. He recognized my name and knew exactly who he was talking to. Yesss! The power of being a huggy and feely bar fly!
After giving him the location of my wordly treasure, he found the bag of sweaty and smokey clothes within minutes! THANK YOU JESUS! WHEW! I promptly thanked him and told him that I owed him a BIG ONE! Hot Boy told me he was going to hold me to that! Evil Grin. The Shrew didn't think that part was too funny one bit.
So, now I must go back to the French Quarter after work togive up get my booty. Just to make the trip worthwhile, I have scheduled a tennis match against Whipping Boy. This will be a great night. I'll get my orphaned clothes back and thump Whipping Boy AGAIN! Woohoo.
What if homeless people started walking around with my Boiish clothes?! That is going to totally fuck up the marketing cool this company's brand image has. Fuck! Santos and Morales are NOT going to be happy.
I frantically went down my cell phone name list to find someone that lived in the French Quarter close to where I parked. I was in a race against time with the sanitation company and homeless people!
Brian and Greg were obviously in the bars drinking because neither one of those old hags bothered to pick up their cell phones. I took the chance of calling a hot boy who once exchanged cell numbers with me. I blogged about him in The Secret to Getting Laid. He was my only hope!
Hot Boy answered after three rings. There was a big lump in my throat and a little nudge in my pants. "Hi, you may not remember me, but my name is Brett and I need a BIG FAVOR!" Now, he could have just hung up the phone right then and there. I was sweating. But he didn't. He recognized my name and knew exactly who he was talking to. Yesss! The power of being a huggy and feely bar fly!
After giving him the location of my wordly treasure, he found the bag of sweaty and smokey clothes within minutes! THANK YOU JESUS! WHEW! I promptly thanked him and told him that I owed him a BIG ONE! Hot Boy told me he was going to hold me to that! Evil Grin. The Shrew didn't think that part was too funny one bit.
So, now I must go back to the French Quarter after work to
posted by Brettcajun at Monday, April 28, 2008
5 Comments:
How about Dairy Queen instead? Now, we're talkin.
Oh my, that is a lot of effort just to get a piece on the side.
I bet hot boy is having some sweet aroma therapy with your sweaty rags taking nose hit after nose hit. :)
I would have loved to see a bunch of homeless people in the Quarter sporting your tight Ts and slinky shorts.
HOT.
Now we need an update on how you paid back your savior.
Girl,
You leaving that mess of clothes in a garbage bag by the curb is the world trying to tell you something.
:) I kid! I kid!
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