"star wars got me laid," said no one ever.

...until me. on my the eve of my birthday celebration.

as everyone knows, birthday sex is one of the most coveted experiences in life. it can either make or break what is already a tumultuous day of facing yet another year older. and what better way to cope but mixing two of my favorite things: sex and star wars.

pretty sure those two have never before been in the same sentence.

until now.

back to the night of the birthday party: lots of friends. a plethora of booze. and one very feisty neon boustier that was aching for some action. and thus, at 11:05 p.m. on that saturday night the following literary genius (with he who shall remain anonymous) was formed:

in spite of what it may seem by the address exchange, this lad happens to be a very good friend of mine (in fact, if you'd like to read more about our relationship, you can do so here). i just hadn't had the pleasure of seeing his new place yet. so, i walked up the stairs to an apartment i could only assume was the right one and headed in. i stumbled into the living room, since i had no idea where i was going (the copious amount of booze wasn't working in my favor either), and found his roommate sitting on the couch with an entire pizza to himself (my friends are classy).

after an awkward hello and happy birthday, his roommate pointed me in the right direction.

i knocked on the door. and was welcomed into a room lit by candles and my friend chillin' ever so casually in the middle of his king size bed.

"hellooooo there...."

...and happy birthday to me.

hey, i just met you. and this is crazy...

there's an episode of friends (season 5 - for fellow friends obsessed who want a reference point), when rachel tells ross she loves him and then bursts into a fit of laughter. her explanation, however, is freaking fantastic. for those who are unfamiliar, the dialogue goes like this:

rachel: i'm still in love with you, ross.
ross: ...i'm not sure what to do with that right now.
[rachel starts laughing]
ross: was that a joke? because it's mean.
rachel: i'm so dead serious. i'm totally serious.
ross: then why are you laughing?
rachel: because... because i just heard it! and it's ridiculous! i mean, you're married. you're married! and it's like... i had this rachel rising out of my body. and the floating rach... the floating rachel is like 'you are such an idiot!'

i bring this up, not only to demonstrate my love and devotion to this classic sitcom, but because one of my gal pals had a similar 'floating rachel' experience. but it wasn't due to professing her unrequited love in a coffee shop. it actually took place in the parking structure of an airport.

some backstory: rachel was going through a bit of a life shit storm and was in dire need of an escape from reality. she decided a weekend getaway was very much in order and called up her trusty friend tom to tag along with her. given the fact that rachel very rarely takes 'no' for an answer, tom booked their flights. and in one week's time, they were on their way to visit some mutual friends.

the weekend, however, left much to be desired. rachel played wing woman so her hostess could get it in, resulting in rachel sitting on the couch at a random bro's house desperately covering her ears while it was happening. (the noises. terrifying). she was blatantly rejected by a bro at a bar (seriously, he physically shoved her aside). and she discovered (via facebook) her ex-boyfriend was dating someone else (someone super ugly, according to rachel). talk about a couple kicks in the pants.

by the time sunday came around, rachel was more than thrilled to head back home. and tom's friend, matt, had offered to take them to the airport at the end of what rachel could only view as an epic failure of a weekend. however, unbeknownst to rachel, tom had planned a last minute farewell sushi soiree with a handful of his friends. friends who love sake bombs. the last thing rachel wanted to do was rage at a sushi restaurant. but a free ride to the airport was on the line. so... when in rome.

now, rachel had never met matt before dinner. and you could only imagine the sloppy first impression she was making, tossing sake bombs down her gullet as if it were going out of style. but after drinking the restaurant dry, it was time to head home, so rachel wobbled to the car and adam and matt tucked her away in the backseat.

the following series of events are a bit of a blur, seeing as though rachel doesn't quite remember the ride to the airport. she also doesn't have any recollection of dropping tom off at his terminal. and she definitely doesn't recall how she ended up with matt in the backseat of his car parked on the top floor of the airport parking structure...

...but, she can recount her floating rachel experience. of course, the below is my interpretation of her out of body experience, but i believe the inner monologue to have gone something like this:

wait a second... what... am... i... DOING? who is this small persian man on top of me? of course he would be driving a BMW. why is my bra strewn ever so gracefully across the dashboard? wait, am i in an airport parking lot? yep. confirmed: parking lot. does this count as the mile high club?! ...you are such an idiot.

ps: tom can never EVER know about this. 

welp. i can say with confidence the last bit has been thrown out the window. but, at least there's a lesson to be learned from our dear floating rachel...

...next time, take a cab to the airport.

man, i feel like a woman.

i've come to the realization there is a breaking point as to how much nonsense women will tolerate when it comes to being hit on. sure, it's flattering to a degree, but sometimes it's just comical, absurd or obnoxious. or some combination of the three.

at this point, my friends and i have pretty much seen it all. from grabby foreigners, to drunken assholes, there isn't much that will surprise us anymore. i'd love to sit one of these overly-forward, creepy mofos down and ask what his ROI is in terms of successfully getting laid. i'd be shocked if the conversion of pickup lines to naked chick in bed is higher than a fraction of a percent. (yes, i am a marketing nerd if you couldn't tell).

of course, there are exceptions to every rule. my friend john paul is one of them. i won't give away his secrets, but let's just say he didn't inherit the nickname "the destroyer" for nothing.

and then there are some pickup attempts that are just so ridiculous, they deserve to be made public. thus my attempt at performing my civic duty, and recounting this tale:

it was my first experience spending an extended period of time in the south, so needless to say my hosts planned a big weekend. (side note: it's safe to say, the chances of getting strange increase exponentially when going out in a city other than your own). in true mama form, i had one mandatory requirement during my weekend getaway: watch the penn state game with a cherry noir vodka soda in hand. thankfully, my hosts complied and we found ourselves in midtown ATL with many-a-cocktail to be had. and, we even convinced the waiter to change the nearest TV to the psu game. for which i am forever grateful.

i digress.

it was at this point that two bros happened to join our crew - friends of a friend of a friend situation - which can only mean one thing: removed strange. things were looking good. and so was one of the bros, whose name escapes me. maybe it was anthony. regardless, the feeling was mutual and flirting commenced.

but, it turns out, anthony had to leave early for a date. some gal he'd hooked up with once before, but felt the gentlemanly need to take out on an official date. given my one-track mind, there was only one thing to do: convince anthony to take all 8 of us on his date without telling the gal (sometimes i think i'm going to hell, by influence of jon lee). long story short, anthony completely blew it and spilled our master plan to his date. (this should have been my first clue of anthony's noob tendencies). needless to say, she was less than thrilled and refused to show up on the "date."

that didn't stop us from continuing our saturday rage fest. it also didn't stop anthony from hopelessly pursuing me. and i can't say that i hated the attention... until we sat down for dinner.

our dinner conversation went something like this (also, insert jon lee's chuckle in the background for the full effect):
anthony: are you coming to my place after dinner?
me: i mean, we just sat down and i just got a fresh vodka soda. chill, bro. let's see what everyone else is doing first.
anthony: but i want to romance you.
me: what. stop. just.. stop.
anthony: but you'll come with me after dinner? 
me: seriously, bro, just stop talking. 
anthony: i want to take you back to my room and make you feel like a woman.
me: i said stop talking.

it went on like this for the duration of our meal. he even got up and followed me to the bathroom and waited outside. creepy. i mean, i may or may not have made out with him outside of the bathroom a little. but, seriously. creeper.

once we'd polished off a couple more rounds of bevies, we collectively decided to part ways and reconvene later in the night. anthony was all but trying to drag me around the corner to his place. thankfully i have ninja reflexes and escaped back to my hotel.

you'd think the story would end here. but at some point in the day, i made the mistake of providing our pal anthony with my digits. which apparently is a green-light for persistent perusal, despite multiple rejections.

after answering his 4th phone call, i decided to give in. what's a trip to the south without experiencing southern hospitality? i told him to come over and "make me feel like a woman." that apparently didn't sit well with anthony, who was still hell bent on romancing me. i tried to make it abundantly clear that i didn't want or need romance. he either was going to come over now, or i was going to go out with my friends.

anthony: but, why can't we hang out after that?
me: because last time my friends and i went out, we were up until 4 a.m. and i'd rather not miss out on fun times with them.
anthony: but i need more time with you. i need to romance you.
me: no, just come over now.
anthony: this is too rushed. i need more time.

it was at this point i hung up the phone. i didn't have the patience nor the desire to deal with this kid.

of course, jon lee had heard this whole ordeal and was curious as to the outcome. i let him know my proposal and anthony's ridiculous terms. which ultimately lead to him declining the offer. jon lee was so disturbed by anthony's actions, or lack thereof. and if you were wondering what this status update of his was all about...

...now you know.

lesson learned: if you want to "feel like a woman," just listen to shania twain.

no one likes a barnacle.

i love a good sleepover. sleepovers are so fun. in my opinion, the sleepover can be more gratifying than the actions that take place during said time spent in bed. sure, it feels great to boast to your pals about getting some strange, but if the sleepover sucks, or you get the boot post-coitus (which, for the record, has never happened to me) i have to say bragging rights diminish substantially.

i also thoroughly enjoy cuddling. with everyone and anything (i'm lovable, what can i say?) but there's a distinct line between proper snuggling etiquette and cuddling gone wrong. the rules are simple:

*the gal should typically be the small spoon.
*contact need not be maintained throughout the entire night.
*feet don't necessarily need to be constantly touching.
*sleeping position must be optimized for minimal audible snoring.
*spooning and bear hugging. not the same.
*passing out whilst holding hands (or any other body part) is strictly prohibited.
*control the direction of your breathing. no one likes hot breath on the nape of their neck. or in their face.

...easier said than done. as my friends and i have experienced many a snuggling violation. the most recent offender: the barnacle.

a barnacle can be defined in one of two ways:
1. a marine crustacean, usually having a calcareous shell, that attaches itself to ship bottoms, floating timber or rocks.
or 2. a person or thing that clings tenaciously.

tenacious hardly even begins to describe my friend molly's encounter with the barnacle.

it had been a long saturday of day drinking and debauchery for molly and her friend allison. upon night fall, they headed over to allison's guy friend's place to continue their journey to hammered-town-usa. it was there that molly made her acquaintance with the barnacle.

now, the barnacle wasn't a terrible guy. he was very sweet and smart and cute (a tad on the shorter side, but that's neither here nor there) and fun to be around. but as much as molly enjoyed hanging out with the barns, she wanted nothing more than to ensure his placement in the friend-zone. the night continued with her extended friend-zone efforts, yet it seemed the barnacle was oblivious to it all. and somehow at the end of the night, molly looked around and noticed neither allison nor her guy friends were anywhere to be seen. she was stuck at balboa cafe, playing liars dice with the barnacle.

suddenly, her phone rang. she was saved! it was her roommate asking if molly could come home on the double, as she was a victim of lost keys and was stranded on the front stoop.

molly: "shoot, i really gotta go. my roommate is locked out of our house. thanks for the beverages and... dice.. i guess. see ya later!"
barnacle: "are you going to be ok getting home by yourself? i'll help get you a cab."
molly: "...uh... i'll be fine. seriously."
barnacle: "no. i insist. let me walk you outside."

and, in true barnacle form, he not only helped molly find a cab, but conveniently ended up accompanying her home.

determined to repulse the barnacle so he'd be forced to excuse himself and go the f home, she devised a plan:
1. she made a drunken feast for her and her now-rescued roommate and began to shove as much food in her face as possible.
2. she started drunk dialing her guy friends, pretending they were booty calls, in hopes barnacle mcgee would take a hint.
3. she put on the most heinous set of pjs she could find.
4. she washed her face, making sure to remove any and all forms of makeup.
and 5. she whipped out her mouth guard.

but alas, her efforts were fruitless. and the barnacle went in for the make out sesh.

molly: "i'm not hooking up with you."
barnacle: "why not?"
molly: "because i don't want to."
barnacle: "...ok."
molly: "i'm going to bed."

feeling a hint of guilt for being so bluntly bitchy, molly let the barnacle sleep in her bed. which she now tells me was one of her most epic mistakes of all time. it started with the spooning. such a tight grasp as if he were holding on to molly for dear life.

arms, legs, feet. all entwined.

in attempts to escape, molly would move her foot a few inches to the right. and the barnacle's foot would follow. she'd move her leg. his would follow. she'd try to shove him gently with her elbow. he wouldn't budge. she'd try to roll further away. his hand was still under her head.

after hours of laying wide awake in the depths of barnacle nation, molly finally removed herself from her bed and relocated on the couch.

she'd never felt such euphoria.

molly awoke to the sun beaming through her windows at 9 a.m. she didn't even care that she was blinded by the light. or that she was crippled by exhaustion and a debilitating hangover. there was no barnacle in sight! he was finally gone! she searched her entire apartment to double check (you can never be too sure you've gotten rid of a barnacle until you have the utmost confirmation). the coast was clear.

although he did leave behind a text message:
"sorry i had to leave so early! i have a 7:30 am conference call for work. hope you have a great sunday! talk to you soon :-)"

is this guy for real? did he not think it was completely awkward and mortifying to wake up in a girl's bed alone?! where did he think molly was? is this something that happened to him frequently? so many questions that still remain unanswered. but, needless to say, molly never saw the barnacle again.

what a grade a sea creature kook.

you down with OKC? yeah, you know me!

more often than not, when my friends and i do something completely ridiculous and/or kooky, it's usually for the sake of the story. i'm going to use that same mentality as my justification for all of us signing up for okcupid. (as if one dating site wasn't bad enough. sometimes i let my masochistic tendencies get the best of me).

below, you'll find a compilation of our favorite interaction thus far. mind you: it's been a week and a half.

i came across your profile and was quite enamored by such an articulate and heavenly blessed beauty. i would be kicking myself if i didn't ask, so i was wondering if you would accept an engagement of witty banter between two intellectuals? of course this "engagement" may start off as purely platonic but my sensual desires will most likely guide our cohesive unity down more erotic, lascivious, and sexual paths that will include but are not limited to passionate make out sessions under the star lit sky, dry humping, fondling each others naughty parts inducing orgasms, and an abundance of new uncharted sexual positions where i assert my pure dominance in establishing a realm of absolute sovereignty in your nether regions. is this something you would be interested in pursuing?

........................................................................................................................................................

hmm, i think i know you...you're the spy i met in macedonia last year. the one who got me drunk and stole my rolex spy-cam and briefcase with top secret files as soon as i passed out... don't think the fact you got rid of the eye-patch and got that giant mole removed has me fooled. i'm onto you... 

so what did you spend my 10,000 euros on? diamonds, plastic surgery, chocolate... or what? 

........................................................................................................................................................

hey there. i'm on here for some casual fun. i love that you like golden girls and friends... not sure if you wanted to chat here for a bit but i'm available thursday to grab coffee in the afternoon if that would work for you? - this guy. 

........................................................................................................................................................

conversation with a stranger is a strange thing sometimes! but i do really like your profile, and we may make good friends. so, let's see. i'll tell you what... 

we can talk about movies... like, for example, i saw 'the woodman's' recently, centering on francesca woodman, the avant-garde photographer who killed herself in 1981 when she was in her early 20's. 

music? i recently recorded my version of "to love somebody" on the acoustic guitar, which was new for me b/c i usually never play other people's songs, so that was pretty awesome. and i'm going to outside lands music festival in SF this weekend! 

food ... recently made a delicious grilled coho salmon with kale and thick cut fries, and yesterday i was grilling some ny steaks w/ grilled heirloom tomatoes, grilled onions, and summer squash. it gave me the opportunity to finally open up that chianti that's been sitting there too long! i love that reddish brown color of chianti and certain tuscan red's, don't you? 

and i went to a glorious ballet class last night, and on my way home, i met a famous musician - reggie watts - who'll be playing at outside lands in SF, to which i am going this weekend! 

how about you? 

:) aly

........................................................................................................................................................

my best guy friend lives in hoboken. yes i'd love to set u two up - save u from this site in the process and play match maker :) - this gal. 

........................................................................................................................................................

i think we might be soul mates (depending on what ice cream flavor is your favorite). what's your spirit animal? 

joe

........................................................................................................................................................

well, with your pulchritudinous looks and my aplomb, i'd reckon we'd be a match made in heaven. and between the rednecks and the degenerates of this town, the quality of men (and women) is pretty sub par, if i do say so myself. it's a crying shame we haven't met already. 

but seriously, 1st rounds on me! maybe the village? and excuse the alliteration, but may we quench our parched palates with some potent potables :) 

ps. 

i'm matt. 

my favorite colour is blue 

jubilee is my favorite xmen 

cranberry juice is the best juice (utis be gone!) 

it's nice to meet me.

his profile:

i am currently in recovery for wanting to have a sex addiction, so ladies, we will adhere to a strict dating plan. i will not put out until after the fourth date, and if you play your cards right you could end up making out with me in an alley behind a dumpster. i am a hopeless romantic... i know women like men that are a challenge, so i have a tattoo on my arm that says 'homo'. my ideal dream woman is a lady who can handle a high level of disappointment. ladies, i do have a reputation in the bedroom. i am known as two pelvic thrusts and a quiver. then, there is my awkward finishing face followed by some karate chops and howling. i do a character in the bedroom called ninjawolf who was raised by wolves and later by ninjas. i do this to distract you until i can get it back up again.

........................................................................................................................................................

you should message me if:

you're very laid back but life is on the move.

you listen to all types of music but are your own groove.

you enjoy friday night but cherish sunday morning.

always fun and spontaneous but sometimes boring.

i guess we’re all different, nobody is the same.

just don’t message me if you’re really lame :)

........................................................................................................................................................

no explanation necessary. 

........................................................................................................................................................

Your too cute :). i'm too old huh ? For you

........................................................................................................................................................

it's been my experience that women who are my favorite zodiac sign...leo...turn out to be serial stalkers that show up unannounced at my door at 3 am drunk, crying, and saying no one loves them. or, they tend to be extremely fun and social.

which one are you? 

........................................................................................................................................................

hey this week I was thinking of robbing a bank fleeing down to the ocean and faking my own death. "scuba tanks in the trunk". r u in? ps u should probably bring some sandwiches or something. no egg salad though cause it smells like fries.

........................................................................................................................................................

...again. we do it for the stories.

veal.

the new phenomenon lately seems to be the correlation between wild animals and their human counterparts. for example:


*cougar
*puma
*bear
*baby cub
*fox


you get the idea.


however, it occurred to me a while back, there really isn't a sufficient animal name for a bro who's significantly your junior. and that, my friends, is how we came up with: veal.


the inception of veal, as you can imagine, has a story behind it.


a group of my college pals and i make an annual trek back to penn state for a brief hiatus from reality to jump down the rabbit hole into full-on college absurdity. itinerary for these weekends is usually as follows:


- drink massive amounts of alcoholic beverages, continuously, throughout the entire 
  weekend
- buy plastic fangs from CVS and accessorize accordingly at the bars
- go to a gay dive bar and get hit on by lesbians
- hitchhike through state college and enjoy a late night meal with the driver
- tailgate
- fail to attend the actual football game due to level of intoxication (and lack of tickets)
- dance parties in inappropriate places
- squeeze 7 gals into one super8 motel room
- eat late night pita pit (sometimes 2x in one night)
- send fexts (a fext, for those who are unaware, is a text message containing a photograph of 
  food, or most often, you eating said food)
- complain about going to indigo, but secretly love it
- take creepy self-timer photos around campus in the dark when no one else is around


again, you get the idea.


this particular trip was even more unique in that we all made a pact to hook up. but not just with any type of bro. but a bro who is still enrolled in college. and alas, one of us succeeded. and that one of us is "jane" (a gal never veals and tells).


in the aforementioned itinerary above, you'll notice a place called indigo. for those who aren't lucky enough to be penn state alum, indigo is a bar downtown that's gone through a couple makeovers. prior to being indigo, it was players nightclub. and none of us one would have ever been caught dead at players. unless we happened to be one of the 5 black people that went to penn state. but, the best thing you could do for a bar in state college, pennsylvania, is change the name and instigate a $1 drink special before midnight, and you have PSU's greek life in its entirety lining up down the block. and as real-world, hard-working women living in some of the most expensive cities in the universe, we jumped at the opportunity for $1 drinks like a puma on her prey. 


needless to say, it didn't take much for all of us to put on some heavy duty booze goggles. with multiple drinks in hand, we made our way to the dance floor to find our victims. ready to uphold our pact.


after a while of getting weird (there may or may not have been some peanuts dancing involved), we realized jane was nowhere to be found. one of the gals said she saw jane getting down on the dance floor. with a *young* lad. a tad worried, but mostly filled with jealousy, we decided to text jane to see where she ran off to. here is the conversation:


us: u should leave now
jane: going to hotel. bring me food.CFO
jane: xo
us: wha
jane: just **** ****
us: pmg to who


totally literate. 


well, here is what really happened:


jane meets veal on the dance floor.
jane dances with veal on the dance floor.
jane makes out with veal on the dance floor.
jane and veal leave indigo.
jane and veal stumble down college ave trying to find a cab.
jane and veal hitchhike at a gas station.
jane and veal end up at the super8 motel on atherton blvd. 
jane and veal... do stuff.
jane makes veal leave.
jane orders pokey sticks from gumbys. and yes, they still had her phone number on file.
happy valley is now happy endings.


oddly enough, jane is actually a vegetarian.

the trifecta of gay.

i'm often approached with questions and concerns around the dating scene in san francisco. it's justifiable, seeing as though i've heard gals outnumber men 2:1 in this city. (i swear i didn't take it upon myself to google that statistic. it just so happens i had a very helpful, and knowledgeable, cab driver the other day). but, apparently, my grandma is aware of this ratio (or she just has an aptitude for mathematics) and makes it a point at least once a month to call me and preach, "too many faygalas in san francisco, michelle. too many faygalas." for those of you who might not have a knack for yiddish, or who might be unfamiliar with harvey milk, san francisco is known for its robust gay population.


many ask if it's challenging to meet straight guys in the city. well, it's clearly not, given the nature of this blog. some folks ask if i've ever been in a situation in which i've hit on, or been hit on, by a man with same sex tendencies. apparently they're under the preconceived notion that every guy you meet out at a bar is gay. and the answer had been no.


...until isaac. 


i have my dear friend sara to thank for the isaac mishap of 2012. don't get me wrong, i appreciate sara's devotion to being an otherwise flawless wing-woman. however, in this case, i could have definitely done without.


also, while we're on the subject, i'd like to stress once again that I LOVE THE GAYS. so much so that my sister and her friends think it necessary to joke about me being a lesbian. sorry to disappoint, but in spite of me bringing my best friend (and soulmate) lisa as my date to more than one wedding and almost every family affair, having an unfeminine-like obsession with sports, hanging out predominantly with dudes, and owning a denim vest as a part of my actual wardrobe, this is in no way the truth. honestly.


so back to isaac. in true mama form, i was drunkity-drunk-drunk-drunk on a friday night on the town. from what i recall, sara approached me. and our conversation went something like this:


sara: omg, michelle, you HAVE to meet isaac!
me: who the fuck is isaac?
sara: this guy i just met. his name is isaac - i think he's a jew!
me: is he tall?
sara: tall enough.
me: fine. send him over. but i think i need another drink.


it was at this point that isaac approached me. what he looked like, i could not tell you. what we spoke about, again, couldn't tell ya. but apparently he was tall enough for me to give him my number. how do i know he gave me my number? because of this text exchange:


isaac (1:27 am): i'll look for you on sunday, smurffette. either way, let's grab drinks or food. talk soon. you're cool :) - isaac
me (3:33 am): right back at ya ;) have s great night


first. let's address my response. a WINKY FACE at 3:30 am? really. i shouldn't be allowed to own a phone. second. i should have known right from the start. golden rule: ALWAYS be skeptical of a text including a smiley. especially from a bro.


for some reason, in spite of my winky face, isaac wanted to take me out for drinks and dinner. the evening of our rendezvous, he texted me:


isaac: on my way. blue sweater and black jacket in case you don't remember exactly what i look like ;-)


again with the smileys. strike 2. although the text was necessary considering the shape i was in the night we met.


me: on my way too! blue floral shirt and black pants in case you need to spot me
isaac: what's your favorite flower? i like gerber daisies.
me: i actually don't know... i'm so bad with stuff like that! we had an orchid once? haha
isaac: alrighty. 


i should have bailed. gerber daisies? is this real? i actually had to google what a gerber daisy looked like. i most definitely couldn't pick one out of a lineup. but, my grandmother's booming voice was echoing in the back of my mind, and i decided to actually show up for the date and give this kid a chance. i mean, hey, it's not his fault i'm florally-retarded.


isaac shows up, clad in his blue sweater and black jacket. he was actually a lot cuter than i had expected, given my history of beer goggle trickery. dinner conversation wasn't terrible, he was actually very smart, and fairly funny. maybe i had it all wrong.


... maybe not.


turns out, the kid's favorite color is purple. and he sang in the choir.


these wouldn't be such terrible attributes had they stood alone. i have a guy friend, v dub, whose favorite color is pink. and my homeboy JP used to sing in the choir (quite talented, too, if you ask me). but purple + choir + gerber daisies? somebody drop this guy off in the castro. on the double.


needless to say, i neglected to call isaac back to follow up on our second date. in spite of his good night make out sesh. talk about throwing you for a loop.


but sorry bro, you're not foolin' anyone.