she was all, “i know you hate miniskirts, but it was what i had on, ive been busy today.”
russian girls normally get it wrong and when they do they do it with their arms crossed.
i never said i didnt like skirts, i told her.
“yes you did, i had a jean skirt on once and you said…”
no, i said that jean skirts remind me of my days at the trailer park. i said and pulled out the guacamole.
she said, arent you going to tivo the game.
i said, only as a backup. but im going to be watching the game and if you want to fight youre only going to get some of my attention, not all of it.
she didnt want to fight. it sorta seemed like she wanted to cry. things with her boybander werent as wonderful as the tabloids would have you believe, and as i suspected, all the rolling around on each other at the beach in front of the paparazzi was somewhat intended to make me jealous, something im incapable of being, and it frustrated her to no end.
he wants to marry me, tony.
so marry him.
i refuse to fight over a girl with a pretty boy. it’s pointless. it’s like fighting over a bone with a dog. if anyone passed by they’d say, yo, pierce, whattya doing with that bone in your mouth. give it to the damn dog, freak!
i paused the tivo and we went over to rafellos for some pasta. the girl needed to eat something. she was obviously emotional and hungry.
we brought the food home and watched the first quarter. by the second quarter we were naked and her eyes were rolled back into her head. i didnt know what i was doing wrong.
apparently i wasnt doing anything wrong.
still, its hard to tell sometimes.
apparently she came the entire time we were at it, which was most of the second quarter. im not tooting my own horn. i think the success had to do with several factors. the first being that i do her far better than her tabloid love. and secondly, i had made a really sweet guns n roses mixed cd.
it starts off mellow with “yesterdays” stays mellow with “patience”. by this time the chick isnt even paying attention when the slightly sexist “i used to love her (but i had to kill her” comes on, and then it seques into the epic “don’t cry” and “november rain” one-two punch. which of course explodes into brownstone/welcome to the jungle/brownstone/you could be mine.
all i know is the refs swallowed their whistles after halftime and anna left my house with a smile on her face and a better grasp of reality which probably no longer includes mr. inglacias or however you spell that punk’s last name.
and when she left that little skirt swung perfectly and i wondered why, if you think a guy doesnt like skirts you would show up at his place wearing a cute little one in hopes to woo him?
i tried to find the answer in the geto boys’ “mind of a lunatic” but only threw my back out, temporarilly, while breakdancing to it.