ADDED 12/5/12 4:28 PM MST
Matt Moves in with Model : Part Deaux
I was debating whether or not to write this part of the story because the first part was pretty long, but given the response I’ve gotten from friends - they want to hear more about my future wife. Since I was seriously lacking on New Orleans posts, damn you normal life, I will divulge. As it goes with most sequels, I encourage you to read the first one before this to gain perspective. To any family reading this I’ve toned down these blogs out of worrying what you will think. This will not be the case anymore, I’m going to write exactly what was happening/going through my mind. I love you all, but if you have an image of a sweet little boy I suggest you stop reading.
So as you might of imagined when WE woke up the next morning it wasn’t all cupcakes and sprinkles. First of all, when I woke up I was on my side and I shit you not, bat shit and I were almost touching noses. Mind you I fell asleep in that bed ALONE, and I wake up eskimo kissing this fucking nut. I jumped back so far I almost fell out of bed. She wakes up because it scared the shit out of me and I’m pretty sure I let out a yelp. So she starts the most overdramatic, trying to be sexy, sleepy sounds and stretching. “Mmmm whaat time is ittt?” “It’s still pretty dark, so early.” “Go baack to sleeeep.” Yah bitch, like that shit is going to happen. She was acting like we just had an amazing night of passion and now we were going to snuggle up close and worry about kissing with morning breathe. I am going over every single move I’ve learned in krav maga and BJJ waiting for her insane ass to pounce. I’m laying there wide eyed, staring at the ceiling fan being like “What the fuck I am going to do?” I am in a brand new city, I don’t know a single person, and I am laying next to someone who should be committed. Not to mention I already paid this chick rent for the three weeks. I’m just trying to figure out a schedule where I am in the house the least amount of time possible, or if there is anyway I can change my living situation. So about 20 minutes go by of me contemplating, and I can still tell she is awake next to me. She goes for the “sexy in the morning” act again and says “It’s hoottt” and kicks the covers off of her and takes off her shirt. She is now in a bra and panties. So my first thought is - nice body. Even in life and death situations, still a bro. My second thought is - here come the aftershocks from last night, brace for crazy. Not to mention, it was not hot in that room. The fan was on full blast, I have like 70lbs on this broad and was fine, it was not warm. But whatever.
So there she is half naked, knowing exactly what she is doing. Now I’m sure every guy reading this is like DUDE WTF, ARE YOU GAY?? WAX IT. And trust, that thought for sure crossed my mind. I was actually going over every scenario: Maybe I can fuck the crazy out of her? Maybe she can fuck the crazy into me? At least that way I can deal with her insanity for the next 3 weeks? But to anyone who hasn’t ever had sex with a truly crazy broad, it is more awkward and strange than it is hot. Referring back to the previous post, slightly crazy is perfect in the bedroom, bat shit not the case at all. They are convinced the harder it is, the hotter, so your dick ends up in a sling and you pretty much end up begging just to cuddle. As stated I have had my share of slightly crazy, and every once in a while a bat shit will sneak in there and before you know it they are screaming “CHOKE ME YOU PUSSY!”. Annnd I would bet any amount of money this broad has said that phrase a few dozen times in her lifetime.
Believe it or not while I am a complete dirt bag when it comes to some things, fucking around with girls is not one of them. Essentially every girl I’ve slept with has ended up in either a mutual “we are having fun together” situation or a dating situation. One night stands really aren't in my repertoire. This is probably because I have to chip away and wear them down and ultimately trick them into sleeping with me, oppose to me taking some moral high ground. That being said, I also don’t fuck around with super slutty girls, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t giving me her v card. The fact that I’m 95% positive that after her second mimosa I could have been like “Uhh soo I’m going to put it anywhere I want” and she would be totally down for it, gives me the impression that I would be lucky number 21,437. So taking all those things into account, any initial primal urges were suppressed.
So we are laying there and she keeps on tossing and turning, and every time she shuffles her body I want to kick her off the bed or smother her with her stupid fucking throw pillows. Maybe an hour and a half goes by, and she wakes up ready to start her day off with a full, hot cup of crazy.
“Where is my shirt?!?”
“Uhh on the side of the bed?”
"What the fuck?? How did it end up there??”
Really bitch? You are going to try and play this card? I’m positive you were fully coherent and aware of your actions when you woke up, you talked to me, then a few minutes later took your shirt off.
“You said you were hot.”
“Oh my God, I’m sucha slut when I’m drunk”.
No you weren’t drunk, that was this morning, you were sober, but yes you are a slut when you are drunk.
“I didn’t embarrass myself or do anything crazy last night did I?” Hmmm.
“Hah you were a little off the walls”
“Really?!? Oh my god, we didn’t hook up did we??”
“No, it was difficult, but I was a gentleman.”
“Yah right, I bet you were all over me.”
So she still was playing this ‘not in a million years’ shit with me and I almost went off on her. Be like I could of done any despicable thing that the darkest part of my conscious could come up with and you would of taken it with a smile, you fucking wacko - but cooler heads prevailed. She then talks about how her schedule is soo busy this week and blah blah blah, mind you we have now been talking for a solid 10 minutes and for being so shocked that her shirt was off, she still hasn’t put it back on. She then says the one thing that hasn’t made me want to put her through a wall in the past 12 hours: “I’m going to make us breakfast.” Hah. But before that, she has to do some morning stretches in front of the mirror. I was so over it at this point I barely glanced. Yes, you’re in a bra, yes you’re wearing a thong, yes you are a yoga instructor, good for you, make my breakfast.
After her completely necessary 5 minute stretching session, she scurries off to the kitchen and proceeds to make the LOUDEST breakfast known to man. Like I swear she was so desperate for attention that every 10-15 seconds some pan would crash or she would exclaim “OH NO!” or something of the sort. I am still just lying in bed loving the fact that I am alone, and hoping that my body is naturally producing enough anti venom to deal with the lethal amount of poison this broad is slipping into my food. So I hear “Readyyy”, and I come stumbling out.
The table was fully set, weird - with candles lit, fucking weird - and a cup of coffee, glass of mimosa, and red wine in a goblet - really fucking weird.
“Red wine?”
“Yah silly, you’ve never had red wine with eggs?”
No, I live in this dimension bat shit. I’ve been to thousands of brunches, one of my favorite things ever to do, and not once has a merlot been on the menu. This was not sangria, this was not a spritzer, it was a full bodied red at 9 am in the morning. Three weeks with this broad, fuck my life. So I sit at the table, and I must admit, she can cook a money breakfast. I’m enjoying that while she is typing furiously on her phone. “Hey my friend insert blonde, is going to come over is that cool?” I am overjoyed that there will be someone to buffer this psycho and be a witness. The girl lived across the complex and walked over. I see that she is carrying something in her hand and it looks like a big vase or something? So she walks in, super cute petite little thing, and no it wasn’t a vase, it was a massive bong. Not only was it massive, but it was a Roor, which is considered to be the Cadillac of bong makers. To say I’m surprised is an understatement, I mean the thing is half the size of her, equipped with all these filtration systems and stuff, wild. Her first words were, “So my doctor just refilled my prescription.” So not only did she have this ridiculous bong, but she was holding pharmaceutical grade weed - I’m talking so many crystals that Swarovski would be jealous.
Before some of you turn away in disgust, first off fuck you. Second, read a book. If you drink alcohol and look down on people who smoke weed you are a retard and should be treated as such. They’ve done countless studies about how much more damaging the effects of drinking are on your body oppose to marijuana and how it is essentially impossible to overdose on weed, and all the rest. Some people don’t like weed and I totally get it and that’s you’re prerogative, but I can’t stand people talking shit about pot as they drink a beer or sip some wine. I myself am a drinker, but I also on occasion love the reefer, all the fun with no hangover. I don’t do anything heavier and don’t plan on it, so the whole gateway drug is bullshit as well. I’ll get off my soapbox.
I have never smoked pharmaceutical grade weed before and it had been about three months since I had smoked anything. Not to mention I was really excited that bat shit was going to smoke and hopefully settle the fuck down. So we partake, and I only take one rip.
To the moooooon! Oh man, I was flying. It was the best weed I’ve ever had, I mean holy balls. It was like every positive thing you get from weed, and absolutely no paranoia, no uneasiness, just full on good. Giggling like shit, and can’t help but smile at everything. Cleary I was a light weight compared to these girls because they hit it a few more times. So I’m just sitting back, full stomach, and all the stress is just leaving my body. The roommate however seems unaffected by any of it and starts to clean, intensely. I mean no corner was missed, no surface with a speck of dust. Her friend and I are playing the celebrity game where you use the last letter in the name of the celebrity to be the first letter of a new celebrity. For instance - Nicholas Cage, Ewan McGregor (because Cage ends with "E"), Ron Paul (because McGregor ends with "R"), Leo DiCaprio, Oprah Winfrey, and so on. So we are playing this game and having a great time, giggling our asses off. The name Sean Connery, came up, so after a second I say, Yo-yo Ma, her friend thinks this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard and can’t stop laughing. Then all I hear in the background is bat shit being yelling “Ohhh, drink! You made that up drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” Her voice was like an ice pick to the brain, and I got real fed up and blurted out “HE’S A CELLIST YOU DUMB BITCH!”
Silence.
Oops. Probably should of toned that one down. But fuck it, I was so over her and this whole situation. So luckily her friend had never heard of this person either (oh Arizona State, what an institution of higher learning) and she looks it up on her phone and tehehe “Oh you’re right” tehehe. We then all decide to go in the pool. Of course them being from Scottsdale they only have the tiniest string bikinis known to man which was pretty sweet. So I’m in the pool chillin on a funoodle just basking in the sun and loving how good I feel. Bat shits phone rings and she hops out and answers it. She is trying to muffle the call and walk off, but of course she is one of the loudest people on this earth and you can hear her from a mile away. From what I could tell it was her roommate, and it seemed like she was just breaking the news to her that I was there. This psycho freakin chick! She totally booked her living room for THREE WEEKS without running it by her roommate?? Woww. So they are clearly arguing on the phone and I can hear her being like “HE’S REALLY NICE! IT WILL BE FINE! IT WILL BE FINE! STOP ACTING LIKE SUCH A BITCH!” Even though I’ve never met her roommate I was in love with her. This was my “get out of psycho chick that is probably going to murder you in your sleep free card”. So after her 15 minute discussion with her roommate, she comes moping back.
“Everything ok?”
“Yah my roommate is just being sucha bitch, ugh I can’t stand her.”
“Really? What’s up?”
“She is super pissed that you are staying here, but it’s like she hasn’t even met you.”
From here I just fuel the fire with everything I have – “Yah, but you have to live with her after I’m gone” “She is being a total bitch but I do see where she is coming from” “Trust me it will be terrible for all of us if your roommate is pissed” everything I could throw out I did. So I end up telling her why don’t I look up some other places and if I can find something, I will just do that and we can just hang out at night. Riiight. She reluctantly agrees that it is probably for the best and I hop out of the pool and dead sprint to the computer. Luckily I find the place I’m at now and booked it right then and there, and got my money back from psychopath. Double Phew!
I will leave you with the voice and conversation that I had to deal with for a few days, it is almost cartoonish. Keep in mind this conversation is after they had smoked a good amount and between the three of us polished off four bottles of wine/champagne, and her friend is about to go shooting with automatic weapons. Arizona. It's really short, and the audio is terrible so I did subtitles and you can sort of hear me giggling in the background at how ridiculous they are. I just had to get their voices on tape, so maybe after that some bros would be like "Oh yah, fuck that I would not of been able to deal with that either."
I was debating whether or not to write this part of the story because the first part was pretty long, but given the response I’ve gotten from friends - they want to hear more about my future wife. Since I was seriously lacking on New Orleans posts, damn you normal life, I will divulge. As it goes with most sequels, I encourage you to read the first one before this to gain perspective. To any family reading this I’ve toned down these blogs out of worrying what you will think. This will not be the case anymore, I’m going to write exactly what was happening/going through my mind. I love you all, but if you have an image of a sweet little boy I suggest you stop reading.
So as you might of imagined when WE woke up the next morning it wasn’t all cupcakes and sprinkles. First of all, when I woke up I was on my side and I shit you not, bat shit and I were almost touching noses. Mind you I fell asleep in that bed ALONE, and I wake up eskimo kissing this fucking nut. I jumped back so far I almost fell out of bed. She wakes up because it scared the shit out of me and I’m pretty sure I let out a yelp. So she starts the most overdramatic, trying to be sexy, sleepy sounds and stretching. “Mmmm whaat time is ittt?” “It’s still pretty dark, so early.” “Go baack to sleeeep.” Yah bitch, like that shit is going to happen. She was acting like we just had an amazing night of passion and now we were going to snuggle up close and worry about kissing with morning breathe. I am going over every single move I’ve learned in krav maga and BJJ waiting for her insane ass to pounce. I’m laying there wide eyed, staring at the ceiling fan being like “What the fuck I am going to do?” I am in a brand new city, I don’t know a single person, and I am laying next to someone who should be committed. Not to mention I already paid this chick rent for the three weeks. I’m just trying to figure out a schedule where I am in the house the least amount of time possible, or if there is anyway I can change my living situation. So about 20 minutes go by of me contemplating, and I can still tell she is awake next to me. She goes for the “sexy in the morning” act again and says “It’s hoottt” and kicks the covers off of her and takes off her shirt. She is now in a bra and panties. So my first thought is - nice body. Even in life and death situations, still a bro. My second thought is - here come the aftershocks from last night, brace for crazy. Not to mention, it was not hot in that room. The fan was on full blast, I have like 70lbs on this broad and was fine, it was not warm. But whatever.
So there she is half naked, knowing exactly what she is doing. Now I’m sure every guy reading this is like DUDE WTF, ARE YOU GAY?? WAX IT. And trust, that thought for sure crossed my mind. I was actually going over every scenario: Maybe I can fuck the crazy out of her? Maybe she can fuck the crazy into me? At least that way I can deal with her insanity for the next 3 weeks? But to anyone who hasn’t ever had sex with a truly crazy broad, it is more awkward and strange than it is hot. Referring back to the previous post, slightly crazy is perfect in the bedroom, bat shit not the case at all. They are convinced the harder it is, the hotter, so your dick ends up in a sling and you pretty much end up begging just to cuddle. As stated I have had my share of slightly crazy, and every once in a while a bat shit will sneak in there and before you know it they are screaming “CHOKE ME YOU PUSSY!”. Annnd I would bet any amount of money this broad has said that phrase a few dozen times in her lifetime.
Believe it or not while I am a complete dirt bag when it comes to some things, fucking around with girls is not one of them. Essentially every girl I’ve slept with has ended up in either a mutual “we are having fun together” situation or a dating situation. One night stands really aren't in my repertoire. This is probably because I have to chip away and wear them down and ultimately trick them into sleeping with me, oppose to me taking some moral high ground. That being said, I also don’t fuck around with super slutty girls, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t giving me her v card. The fact that I’m 95% positive that after her second mimosa I could have been like “Uhh soo I’m going to put it anywhere I want” and she would be totally down for it, gives me the impression that I would be lucky number 21,437. So taking all those things into account, any initial primal urges were suppressed.
So we are laying there and she keeps on tossing and turning, and every time she shuffles her body I want to kick her off the bed or smother her with her stupid fucking throw pillows. Maybe an hour and a half goes by, and she wakes up ready to start her day off with a full, hot cup of crazy.
“Where is my shirt?!?”
“Uhh on the side of the bed?”
"What the fuck?? How did it end up there??”
Really bitch? You are going to try and play this card? I’m positive you were fully coherent and aware of your actions when you woke up, you talked to me, then a few minutes later took your shirt off.
“You said you were hot.”
“Oh my God, I’m sucha slut when I’m drunk”.
No you weren’t drunk, that was this morning, you were sober, but yes you are a slut when you are drunk.
“I didn’t embarrass myself or do anything crazy last night did I?” Hmmm.
“Hah you were a little off the walls”
“Really?!? Oh my god, we didn’t hook up did we??”
“No, it was difficult, but I was a gentleman.”
“Yah right, I bet you were all over me.”
So she still was playing this ‘not in a million years’ shit with me and I almost went off on her. Be like I could of done any despicable thing that the darkest part of my conscious could come up with and you would of taken it with a smile, you fucking wacko - but cooler heads prevailed. She then talks about how her schedule is soo busy this week and blah blah blah, mind you we have now been talking for a solid 10 minutes and for being so shocked that her shirt was off, she still hasn’t put it back on. She then says the one thing that hasn’t made me want to put her through a wall in the past 12 hours: “I’m going to make us breakfast.” Hah. But before that, she has to do some morning stretches in front of the mirror. I was so over it at this point I barely glanced. Yes, you’re in a bra, yes you’re wearing a thong, yes you are a yoga instructor, good for you, make my breakfast.
After her completely necessary 5 minute stretching session, she scurries off to the kitchen and proceeds to make the LOUDEST breakfast known to man. Like I swear she was so desperate for attention that every 10-15 seconds some pan would crash or she would exclaim “OH NO!” or something of the sort. I am still just lying in bed loving the fact that I am alone, and hoping that my body is naturally producing enough anti venom to deal with the lethal amount of poison this broad is slipping into my food. So I hear “Readyyy”, and I come stumbling out.
The table was fully set, weird - with candles lit, fucking weird - and a cup of coffee, glass of mimosa, and red wine in a goblet - really fucking weird.
“Red wine?”
“Yah silly, you’ve never had red wine with eggs?”
No, I live in this dimension bat shit. I’ve been to thousands of brunches, one of my favorite things ever to do, and not once has a merlot been on the menu. This was not sangria, this was not a spritzer, it was a full bodied red at 9 am in the morning. Three weeks with this broad, fuck my life. So I sit at the table, and I must admit, she can cook a money breakfast. I’m enjoying that while she is typing furiously on her phone. “Hey my friend insert blonde, is going to come over is that cool?” I am overjoyed that there will be someone to buffer this psycho and be a witness. The girl lived across the complex and walked over. I see that she is carrying something in her hand and it looks like a big vase or something? So she walks in, super cute petite little thing, and no it wasn’t a vase, it was a massive bong. Not only was it massive, but it was a Roor, which is considered to be the Cadillac of bong makers. To say I’m surprised is an understatement, I mean the thing is half the size of her, equipped with all these filtration systems and stuff, wild. Her first words were, “So my doctor just refilled my prescription.” So not only did she have this ridiculous bong, but she was holding pharmaceutical grade weed - I’m talking so many crystals that Swarovski would be jealous.
Before some of you turn away in disgust, first off fuck you. Second, read a book. If you drink alcohol and look down on people who smoke weed you are a retard and should be treated as such. They’ve done countless studies about how much more damaging the effects of drinking are on your body oppose to marijuana and how it is essentially impossible to overdose on weed, and all the rest. Some people don’t like weed and I totally get it and that’s you’re prerogative, but I can’t stand people talking shit about pot as they drink a beer or sip some wine. I myself am a drinker, but I also on occasion love the reefer, all the fun with no hangover. I don’t do anything heavier and don’t plan on it, so the whole gateway drug is bullshit as well. I’ll get off my soapbox.
I have never smoked pharmaceutical grade weed before and it had been about three months since I had smoked anything. Not to mention I was really excited that bat shit was going to smoke and hopefully settle the fuck down. So we partake, and I only take one rip.
To the moooooon! Oh man, I was flying. It was the best weed I’ve ever had, I mean holy balls. It was like every positive thing you get from weed, and absolutely no paranoia, no uneasiness, just full on good. Giggling like shit, and can’t help but smile at everything. Cleary I was a light weight compared to these girls because they hit it a few more times. So I’m just sitting back, full stomach, and all the stress is just leaving my body. The roommate however seems unaffected by any of it and starts to clean, intensely. I mean no corner was missed, no surface with a speck of dust. Her friend and I are playing the celebrity game where you use the last letter in the name of the celebrity to be the first letter of a new celebrity. For instance - Nicholas Cage, Ewan McGregor (because Cage ends with "E"), Ron Paul (because McGregor ends with "R"), Leo DiCaprio, Oprah Winfrey, and so on. So we are playing this game and having a great time, giggling our asses off. The name Sean Connery, came up, so after a second I say, Yo-yo Ma, her friend thinks this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard and can’t stop laughing. Then all I hear in the background is bat shit being yelling “Ohhh, drink! You made that up drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” Her voice was like an ice pick to the brain, and I got real fed up and blurted out “HE’S A CELLIST YOU DUMB BITCH!”
Silence.
Oops. Probably should of toned that one down. But fuck it, I was so over her and this whole situation. So luckily her friend had never heard of this person either (oh Arizona State, what an institution of higher learning) and she looks it up on her phone and tehehe “Oh you’re right” tehehe. We then all decide to go in the pool. Of course them being from Scottsdale they only have the tiniest string bikinis known to man which was pretty sweet. So I’m in the pool chillin on a funoodle just basking in the sun and loving how good I feel. Bat shits phone rings and she hops out and answers it. She is trying to muffle the call and walk off, but of course she is one of the loudest people on this earth and you can hear her from a mile away. From what I could tell it was her roommate, and it seemed like she was just breaking the news to her that I was there. This psycho freakin chick! She totally booked her living room for THREE WEEKS without running it by her roommate?? Woww. So they are clearly arguing on the phone and I can hear her being like “HE’S REALLY NICE! IT WILL BE FINE! IT WILL BE FINE! STOP ACTING LIKE SUCH A BITCH!” Even though I’ve never met her roommate I was in love with her. This was my “get out of psycho chick that is probably going to murder you in your sleep free card”. So after her 15 minute discussion with her roommate, she comes moping back.
“Everything ok?”
“Yah my roommate is just being sucha bitch, ugh I can’t stand her.”
“Really? What’s up?”
“She is super pissed that you are staying here, but it’s like she hasn’t even met you.”
From here I just fuel the fire with everything I have – “Yah, but you have to live with her after I’m gone” “She is being a total bitch but I do see where she is coming from” “Trust me it will be terrible for all of us if your roommate is pissed” everything I could throw out I did. So I end up telling her why don’t I look up some other places and if I can find something, I will just do that and we can just hang out at night. Riiight. She reluctantly agrees that it is probably for the best and I hop out of the pool and dead sprint to the computer. Luckily I find the place I’m at now and booked it right then and there, and got my money back from psychopath. Double Phew!
I will leave you with the voice and conversation that I had to deal with for a few days, it is almost cartoonish. Keep in mind this conversation is after they had smoked a good amount and between the three of us polished off four bottles of wine/champagne, and her friend is about to go shooting with automatic weapons. Arizona. It's really short, and the audio is terrible so I did subtitles and you can sort of hear me giggling in the background at how ridiculous they are. I just had to get their voices on tape, so maybe after that some bros would be like "Oh yah, fuck that I would not of been able to deal with that either."
