The man who writes my subjects is not lying. This IS epic. This was Sunday, April 19th. It was karaoke at The Drawing Room. It was a night just filled with stuff. I think I cloud easily do these pages as individual posts but I think that part of what makes them great is that they all happened on one night. So here we go. 9 pages.
The first two pages set the scene with some fine-assed ladies. In the lower left is the bartender from the Drawing Room. She is so very hot. AND she gave me her email address. I sent her some pictures from this night. I don’t think she ever wrote me back. But still. Email address. That’s a victory in itself. And the next time I went to Karaoke at the Drawing Room she introduced me to her mom while I was stealing a 10′x20′ area rug. So it’s like I’m part of the family!
Pages 3 and 4 are a verbatim (more or less) transcript of a conversation I had with this particular fine-assed lady. I think she was drunk. I think she might have also been stupid. It is also possible that she was sober and a genius. Actually if she was sober she had to be a genius because that was some of the best acting I’ve ever seen. Shit. I bet she’s a sober genius. She didn’t want to be my girlfriend. She just wanted to make fun of me. I bet she was made to feel small by the power of my performance. Man, what a bitch.
The third set of pages is the only evidence of who I was at the Drawing Room with this night. I wouldn’t have remembered if I didn’t have these pictures. Thanks to the strong-assed drinks made by the fine-assed bartender most Drawing Room nights run together in my mind. On this particular night though, I was there with Natalie and Diane. Diane always hates pictures of herself. I have a tough time not making that personal. Natalie got her butt grabbed by a girl. At least that’s what she claimed. She exaggerates sometimes. After the alleged ass incident, Natalie asked me if she looked like a lesbian. I explained that it is only in very extreme cases of lesbianism that you can tell someone is a lesbian by looking. Most lesbians just look like female humans. Yeah. I’m a champion of gay rights. An Ally if you will.
Pages 7 and 8 are two more fine-assed ladies, one who’s ass was slightly finer than the other. I like my reasons for not taking a picture of her ass. Read them.
And the 9th and final page is me. Being sad about all the fine-assed ladies. I can’t explain it exactly. It is like I live in a world where there are all these ice cream cones floating around. And I really want an ice cream cone. But, I’m too afraid to take the ice cream cones so I go without. So every time I see a particularly delicious looking ice cream cone, like a vanilla soft serve in a cake cone, or a banana strawberry in a sugar cone, or a pralines and cream in a waffle cone, I get a little sad. But of course when ever someone offers me an ice cream cone I slap it out of their hand onto the sidewalk below and go home and watch Mythbusters. So why do I still get sad? I obviously don’t want any damn ice cream cone. Oh my stupid brain. I swear it’s gonna kill me one of these days.
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