knock at the door usually means one thing: a change in plans

snoop dog was on. old school was on. a girl who sorta looked like a younger gabrielle reece if you know who she is had just left behind something smoking in the ashtray and i had just picked it up to see what it was for the odor was seductively curious. i was just about to touch it when a little tap at the front door startled me.

this one looked like an older marisa tomei, but taller. i dont know if ive ever told you this but ive always liked tall girls.

her name was gretchen she lived across the street. little purse little socks tall shoes big hair. her dress sparkled from thousands of sparkley sparklies as she shivered next to my satellite dish.

its funny how sometimes you think a bad date is just that.

she was drunk. hot. sloppy. pale.

someone wrote in one of my posts this week that he didnt believe the story i was telling.



real tits

in here

totally shaved


pierced nips


woke up this morning still on the couch with her.

got up


brushed my teeth

took my socks off

gave each of my feet a generous spray of desenex

put two clean white socks on

fixed up some scrambled eggs

stirred a griddle of bacon around

boiled some grits

toast popped up right when i had poured two glasses of apple juice.

turned on the tv

and i hadnt realized that bitch had knocked my dish out of alignment last night when she waited for me to answer the door.

she woke up next to a vase of fresh snapdragons rubbing her good eye and noticing me flipping through the tivo deleting the shows that had only recorded a black screen that said searching for satellite signal for a half hour.

and then i knew who was gonna get the slice of toast that


had fallen on the kitchen floor.

tiffany + chicha + how appealing

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