ardent bullshit comes down every faultline gushing heavily into jest kindly luscious melons nodding openly post quakes resting still to undermind various wonderous xylophones yawning zealously

Monday, September 26, 2005

The Story of Caleb & Emily

Guess who I talked to last week. God? Nope. Goldie Hawn? Nope. RuPaul? Nope. What's with you & Goldie & Rupaul? They're the only celebs uncool enough to talk to you. Good point. No, I talked to Caleb. Oh yeah? How's he? Kickin' ass & takin' names. Same old same old. And, so what? So I thought I'd tell a story. Great. Where's my pillow?

Chapter 1: How Emmy Met Gabe
Once upon a time in a town in the foothills, a sorority girl (we'll call her Emily) at university couldn't find a date for a date-dash. She'd called Brad & Young Homer & Craig & Jim & Pete & Rob but got nowhere. Date-dash (def.)-when the social chair of a sorority house decides to rent out a bar or borrow a house to throw a party in which the girls & their dates are to attend. The girls in the house usually have roughly 1.5-2 hours to find a date & get ready. Also see: a spectacular reason to get drunk on a Monday night.

Debating a visit to the local novelty porn store to buy a blow-up man, Emily's roomate entered the room. From here on out, the roommate will be referred to as North/South (she had a boob job & the md(?) botched it, her nipples now point up & down). N/S was quite a crafty thing but too dumb to pull off clever. She will also be referred to as a thing because it is questionable she is human & rumored to be a spawn of the devil or possibly Lucifer itself. (Also see "Cathy" from East of Eden) At this time N/S & Emily spoke to each other. (This was before N/S passed out on Emily & puked all over their room the night before the Emily's very important Spanish Lit final)

This story sucks. Is that a zit or a mosquito bite on your forehead? It doesn't suck & it's a mosquito bite. Don't you see how it's scabbed over a little? Oh right. What are you going to eat for dinner tonight? I'm not sure. But your caloric distraction tactics will not work. Oh yeah? Ice cream cake. La la la la I can't hear you.

N/S had invited 4 different dates to the date-dash, just in case any of them no-showed. Playing the socialite after hearing Emily's situation, N/S got on the phone with Jason (an unsuspecting victim of future embarrassment) "do you have any roommates? a date for my roommate. uh huh. yeah. he's free? great. bring him. not really. brown. blue. oh no, i'm much better looking." And hung up.

An hour later introductions were made. Off to the party. Having declared earlier that the main reason of attendance was to get as much free beer as possible, they participated in many games & contests. Emily introduced everybody to Caleb by the wrong name. They learned that they both love Bjork, particularly Debut. They had long conversations about Marquez. They talked about what they were going to be when they grew up. Caleb...a rock star. Emily...the princess of Spain. They laughed about funny stories of crazy people going to restaurants in their bathing suits & floaties in Canyon City. They laughed as 3 other guys showed up to find that N/S had invited them all. They laughed harder as the guys tried to win the attention of N/S, making complete jackoffs of themselves. It was a good ol' hootenany.

Then the kegs ran out. So they went home & drank more beer & did some smack. Uh, what? Ha ha. Just kidding. They only drank more beer & watched The Doors. This began a terrific friendship.

The End. (for now)

Significance? I was hanging out with some friends at a show this weekend & we talked about blind dates. I was the only one to have gone on one. (Everybody else said no way jose) In an attempt to prove that the one time I've been set up went well, I thought I'd share the story. But you missed the most important issue. I thought that getting drunk was implied. No, dumbass. Did you get laid? No. It wasn't that kind of date. Plus, weren't you paying attention? I'm going to marry the prince of Spain. Duh. That was a waste. I was hoping that you'd at least get laid. You suck. I want laid stories. Well, they you'll just have to go somewhere else. Fine then, maybe I will. I'm gonna go hang out on Conti's blog. He likes the word laser.


Our Next Top Story…I'm really craving Chicken McNuggets. Will you bring me some?

8 Comments:

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Blogger erin said...

is he the sweaty one?

7:04 PM

 
Blogger emertron said...

Will you bring me Chicken McNuggets if I tell you?

10:12 AM

 
Blogger ica said...

Those are some massive pit stains.

2:37 PM

 
Blogger emertron said...

Yeah they are.

10:59 AM

 
Blogger emertron said...

Dear Erin,
No. That is not Caleb. In fact, I do not know who it is but it looks like a kid I went to high school with & that's a little creepy.
(heart), emmy

6:52 PM

 

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