Wrath / Remedy

“What am I going to do with you.”

Yes boys and girls, that was the FA calling me this morning. It appears that he fears the wrath of his lovely wife very much.

“We weren’t scoping out women on the way to the 300 Club, we just asked them for directions.”

Ok, I elaborated on that one a bit in the last post. I’ve been in the funk lately and was not looking for women, and the FA, being married and all, more than likely was not looking for women. No, I know he wasn’t, and we certainly wouldn’t have been talking to 20 yr olds if we were looking for women.

“You made it sound like I was avoiding the wife by not going home right away. I told her I stopped and had a beer with you.”

Come on man, here I am trying to build him up as something other than the pussy he really is and he wants me to set the record straight. I never said everything on this blog was 100% true. Do you really think I drink as much as I let on? Do you really think I make a mess in my shorts as often as I write about it? Do you really think I take the time to whack off every day? No, no, and no. For example, in the last post I said I had 8 beers before the game when it was really 7.5. I haven’t even told you about half of the times I’ve crapped my pants because being 30 and having it happen once in a while is bad enough, every fucking weekend and it gets downright gross and embarrassing. And I don’t whack off once every day, yesterday I did it twice. See, not everything is true on this blog.

And then I got the email.

“Ok, you don’t have to fix anything if you just post my comment.”

So I went back to my email and found his comment which I of course cannot publish because Mr. Scardo Retardo used his wife’s real name.

If you would like me to continue to "think of you" when I have free tickets I recommend not "expanding/imebelishing" on stories that involve me purely for the sake of making this a more entertaining read.

The corection being that I asked for directions to the .300 club from the nearest bystanders who, yes, were of the female variety and continued to talk after the directions were given. Yes, we had four passes so the other two were offered since there was no other use for them. And o.k., yes, - one did grab my ass as they walked away but I can't help it if I'm that irrestiable! It Actually happened once in [the wife’s] presence at Summerfest. She wasn't pleased then as I'm sure she won't be when she reads that it happened again, so thank you.

(on a side note, glad you had fun...)

I don’t think my description was that far off from his but oh well, now the wife knows she’s in the driver’s seat after I’m sure he spent at least an hour and a half today trying to think of a remedy. And that was me who grabbed his ass at Summerfest but I’m flattered that his wife got jealous over it. Besides, the FA does have a nice ass, even the neighborhood gay guy commented on it with something about popping his butt cherry.

And then, ring, ring.

“You’re on my list.”

Laughing just a little bit too loud for the office environment, “What list am I on? Would that be like the top five list of people that you can have sex with?”

I really need to stop writing stuff like.

“Yeah, I just got off the phone with the wife. I figured I’d tell her about it before she reads your shit. She didn’t sound too happy and hung up on me.”

I think the FA is just paranoid about this whole thing. And even better yet, right now as he’s reading this he’s sweating more and more with every word I type. Because you never know what will pop up on this evil, sinister, foul smelling little website of mine. So I think I will just keep on typing and keep on typing and keep on typing till I might mention something cruel and embarrassing about the FA but I won’t. I’ll be the good friend here. I think I know his wife fairly well; the last thing she’s worried about is some stupid story that I made just a wee bit bigger than real life just for the benefit of you, my dear and loyal readers. The FA on the other hand will have to change his shorts after reading this since he asked that I not mention any of this (oops).

I consider the situation fixed.