Saturday, September 22, 2001

A Chimp, A Pimp and Heavy Breathing

The Chimp
Today, I got hit on. Badly. I hafta share this with you, my lovelies, because I think you'll get a little kick outta this. I was walking back to my office after an hour of child abuse (teaching), and this dude steps up to me, talking about "Kamusta, napintas mo" (however you spell it, dammit, I'll git to it). Well, thanks, I replied. I made haste to my office, as this was getting to be bizarre from the gitgo. He starts rappin' to me in tagalog, and I said, dude, I'm Ilocano, so you need to recognize. I thought he was a student, so I just gave it to him off the bat. He follows me to the office, and then asks for my number. It's not like that, I said. I don't date students. He said, I'm not a student, so when can we have lunch, I just want to meet kaibigans (friends). It turns out he speaks some tagalog and it's all thrown in there with his weak game that really makes me want to slap him for even trying. I told him, in short that he needs to get out of my face and leave me alone with his game, and he replies, you think I want to hook up with you? It's not like that! I retort: If you are rollin' up on me, in my face, then what am I supposed to do? So you need to leave because I don't appreciate what you're doing right now. He thought I was a student, but when he saw that he was dealing with a professor, he got excited. Whatever, rule #5606, guys, is game recognize game if she's givin' you the business, then you need to quit.

The Pimp
Tonight I hung out with the Beer Can. I took him to Rohan where I ate dinner whilst we drank Confuciouses and got tipsy. We conversated as is normal per going out to get drinks. Then we scooted across the street to Patrick O'Sheas where we had more drinks, and I explained the virtues of walking all over old men in high heels and placing things in rectums ("With lube, anything is possible."). Thoroughly disgusted yet charmed by my talk of "You just have to have it done thet RIGHT way.", We headed over to Pearls to take in some jazz music. Much love to Beer Can (formerly known as the Closet Wife Beater), for his revelations of wood and other personal items that I care not to mention because it's just downright funky. By the way, you're such my bitch.

Heavy Breathing
Whilst at Pearl's, I heard someone breathing kinda heavy. At first I thought maybe I can hear myself breathing. Then I thought it was Beer Can (because you know, I am a hot chick, and he might be jazzing up his jizzer to compensate for pent up penile emotions). Then upon closer review, it was the guy next to me. I leaned over to ask Beer Can if he heard the heavy breathing, and he thought it was me. I was insulted. I pointed out that it was the big dude next to me, but I was not to be heard. I urge you to write Beer Can and inform him of his erroneous behavior, and that in no way shape or form does the Voodoo Child breathe heavily unless under heavy orgasmic stress (in other words, don't stop now, fucker, I'm almost there).

That's the tale of my tape this evening, my babies. I have to admit I had a blast, and Beer Can is one fun date. Now if only I could get him to stop doing that ventriloquism breathing thing, it'd be love.

Ciao for now,
Voodoo

posted by Voodoo Child @ 1:59:00 AM