There are other aspects of my life that may not get quite the attention that they deserve. I mean, if you haven’t had sex in six months do you really have to have the nether regions trimmed and looking pretty? I must admit, I did break down two weeks ago and shaved what was turning into an evergreen bush, but the only one who’s enjoyed it has been myself (I tend to envision myself as a high profile porn star when I feel the need to, uh, go to my happy place). Don’t get me wrong here, it’s not like I don’t take care of my personal hygiene. Certainly I shower every day and even use a “just checking” wipe after a hearty shit to make sure everything’s good down there. But shaving and crap like that can be put off.
Going back to the clothing issue. This may sound a little gross, but bear with me. I wore the same jeans to the bar every day the last week. It started on Friday and lasted eight days ending on last Friday. Part of this was just to see if I could do it, part of it was because at my current weight (saw 230.5 last week) they’re the only ones that really fit me. And no, I didn’t wash them at all during the week. You know how it is when you wash your clothes and they shrink just a little bit? Well, I didn’t have room for the shrinkage. I needed all the space they could offer. To make matters worse it snowed a shit load this week and I wore them four times shoveling snow. But they never got to the point where they smelled like something other than cigarette smoke. Everything’s good then, right? I thought so. I did wash them on Saturday.
Then there’s housekeeping. I haven’t really cleaned the house over the past month. Hell, no one sees it besides the Renter and I, and if she doesn’t complain you sure as hell know that I won’t. There were some dust bunnies camped out along the walls in the living room and some Chubacka like hair clumps from the Renter in the bathroom. My room received no attention. I’m the only one who goes in there so stuff had accumulated in corners and what have you. The pictures will attest to this.
Friday night I was not in tip top drinking shape. The Renter had ordered an all you can eat fish plate and I snagged a couple (five) fish sticks from her plate. Three pitchers in to it I realized I was stuffed. Even the eight day old jeans were getting tight on me. To the protest of my friends I decided to call it a night at 9:30. I went home, read for a little bit and hit the light switch.10:30 I received a call from the old roommate.
OR: B to the…, you need to come up here. There are actually women at the bar. And they’re cute as hell!
Me: Yeah, I don’t think so. Dude, I’m just going to go back to bed.
After listening to some back ground noise in the phone about how I wasn’t going to come up to the bar I hung up and turned my phone off.
12:30 in the morning a heard a noise in the hallway. But it wasn’t the Renter coming home. When the Renter comes home I usually hear a “clump, clump, clump” as she walks down the hallway and flips on the light. This time there was no clumping, no light in the hallway, just hushed voices. Then the lights went on. The Renter, the old roommate, and three chicks stormed into my room. The three girls started yelling, “Pussy popper! Pussy popper!” Uh, what? I didn’t have my contacts in and couldn’t see a whole lot, but the girls appeared pretty attractive. The girls came right up to my bed and pulled the covers off me. I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on but I tried to be a good sport about it and played along. One girl got her leg on the bed half straddling me stilling yelling “Pussy popper!” After posing for pictures they left. I could hear them “pussy popping” my 75 yr old neighbors pine tree on the way back to the bar. I stared at the clock for 20 minutes trying to decide if I should go back up to the bar but instead rolled over and went back to sleep.
This morning I woke up and looked around my room. As you saw in the pictures, it was not in any condition to be seen by other people, especially three pretty hot chicks. I’m sure the Renter will post their pictures on her blog when she gets around to it.
The thing is, if I know that a woman is going to be over, I’m sure as fuck going to clean my room. It was pretty bad, teddy bear by the bed, big pile of dirty clothes in the corner, Maxim magazine on the floor (the pages still turn on that one just fine, I promise), and you can’t even see the top of my dresser. The girls even played with the skull’s eyeballs on the way out. So, while it’s pretty fucking cool that the Renter got three women to come back to my room without even seeing me, I’m pretty fucking sure, after seeing my room, none of them would consider dating me. Of course I would be writing something totally different here if they had all gotten naked and jumped in bed with me, but that didn't exactly happen (till 30 minutes after they left, well, in my mind at least).
Saturday I cleaned the kitchen and living room, the Renter cleaned out the bathroom. I took care of the pile of dirty laundry today, too. Sunday I’ll do the dresser and whatever else needs to be done to make my room a love shack once again. If it ever could have been considered that, you be the judge.
1 comment:
Tell me that something happened between you and the three girls that your roommate brought home for you? Your readers need to know that you step up to the plate and lived the fantasy that we all dream of, three women at once. Please tell me that you spent the whole night in bed with three women having wild, hot porn-like sex and not by yourself. For God sakes, lie to us if you have to. Just don't tell us that you let that opportunity slip threw your fingers.
I want to know where I can get a roommate like your.
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