Oh, and scissors
Got my hair cut today. It took 4 hours. Don’t ask. It involved dead batteries, thunderstorms, tornado warnings, a dazzling combination of boobs, bootie, blue eyes and eyelashes, InStyle Magazine, a girl celebrating her 2-year boyfriend anniversary, irresponsibility, frustration, no boxers, a ride to the market, a ride to the liquor store, did I mention sideways rain? Shopping like a wickedly fucked up domestic couple, pretzels with peanut butter injected into them, an urge for adventure, thin crust pizza and Blue Moon Beer. Did I mention the teeming rain? My head semi-accidently lodged in cleavage in a Honda. A girl who can drive a stick and pump a clutch. We did it all without an umbrella. Nothing like slogging into a local bar with a dripping wet beautiful woman who was born when I was 16. And then splitting a thin crust pizza. And then talking about Florida for 2 hours. While drinking Blue Moons together. These are the kind of things that happen when I decide to say, “fuck it” and just rebel against the flow.
2 comments:
Feels good, huh.
Of course. It’s always more fun when she makes the subtly obvious first move and then follows through. When a woman says, “I want to have a night of mayhem”, while she’s pretending that she doesn’t know she’s pressing her boobs on your chin, you HAVE to take the lead and arrange a night of fun.
The funny thing is that it was almost like dating a go-go dancer. Nothing slutty happened, and we had a blast. Some people a just born to be more fun than others.
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