August 12, 2008

I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR PICTURE LYIN' IN YR WEAVE

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Last night me and NoNo and a re-emigrated Dave Laney (on his third move back to Chicago) heard the triumphant end of JR's story of the Swedish lady-man. It went like so, and features one of the all time best I-can't-do-you excuses:

So I walked back in from smoking with you, thinking my night was done and she just grabbed me and laid one on me. Just full on. And the vaguely Russian dudes at the next table are just like, flabbergasted.
Was that dude at the table she was at her pimp?
No, I thought so too, but he was just sitting there. And so I'm just like what the fuck, why not, I checked to see if she had an Adam's apple and she didn't, so we just kind of make out for a second and she's telling me that she loves my sportcoat and then she says "Hey, lets get out of here." And I'm just thinking, ok, whoa, weird, weirdly hot Swedish chick, totally wasted. Just trashed. What do I do. Miles is staring at me. I can't-- Anyhow, I don't know what I'm thinking, but I grab my necklace with the ring on it from under my shirt and hold it out to her and say "I can't. I have a girlfriend. She's not here. She's in China. Covering the Olympics." And she gets kind of mad, "You have a girl!?UGH!" and she walks away. And so the table of dudes call me over and are like "What happened?! She was all over you?! What did you say to her?" and I was like "I just met her, but I told her I wasn't going home with her," and they were dumbfounded. l. She just waved me over with her finger and said "I am Swedish, what do you think of that?" and that was the all there was, like two minutes after meeting she had her tongue down my throat. I told them that she said she liked my sportcoat. And as soon as I say that one of the guys says "well, let me try on the sportcoat!" and so he goes parading up and down the bar to see if it gets her attention. Then he gets back and the other guy says "Let me see if it works for me!" and on and on. She doesn't notice them, and I'm standing there while a procession of Russian dudes peacock about in my jacket, thinking "My life cannot get any weirder."

Posted by Jessica at August 12, 2008 04:03 AM | TrackBack