This is my second entry tonight. Click here for the first one.
I've developed this sudden desire to drink every night. Should I be worried? Last night I discovered that we were all out of leftover beer from my mom's party, so I concocted something else with what I had to work with ... Southern Comfort, Grenadine, milk, and cream (I sort of had this craving for a liquored-up milkshake, but we didn't have ice cream, so I used regular cream instead). Hey, it was there, and I like to experiment, OK? The result was a pink, creamy drink that bore an uncanny ressemblance to Pepto Bismol ... but tasted alright. So I am officially naming that drink ... umm ... the Pink Nipple�.
[Cue announcer's voice]
Yes, that's right. The Pink Nipple�. Smooth, creamy, and sweet. Goes down so easy, you can barely tell it's alcoholic! And you know what that means, gentlemen. That's right ... you can ply your date with liquor before she even knows what's happening! She'll be drunk before you can say "Does this unhook at the back or the front?"! The Pink Nipple� ... buy her one at your local bar today!"
At this rate, I'll become a girl drink drunk (ahh ... memories of Kids in the Hall). Heh. That's embarrassing. Remind me to buy some beer next time I actually have money.
So ... OK, what were those things I meant to write about again? Ummm ... I passed out some resumes. No real story there ... I shared an elevator with a hot guy ... OK, story there.
I got on the elevator to go up to my floor, and there was this guy getting on as well, carrying potted plants (I don't know what the story with the plants was ... I didn't ask), kind of fumbling, trying to hold onto them and get his access card out of his pocket at the same time. Then I got on and used mine, so he said "Could you hit 24, please?", and he had an English accent, which was interesting, because looking at him I'd say he was maybe Mediterranean or something ... though I'm not entirely sure. Anyway, I pressed 24 for him, and he said "Thanks a lot" in that charming accent. I glanced at him in the mirrored elevator wall, and realized that he was looking at me ... and he had this sort of grin on his face which caught me a little off guard ... because I'm not used to random hot guys looking at me and grinning ... and I blushed and did that looking-at-the-floor thing that's so typical of me for the rest of the ride. But when I got off at my floor, he smiled at me and said "Goodnight", and I think I managed to utter something like "'Night to you, too" in response ... but who really knows. I'm so damn awkward in those situations. But man, he was HOT. He had glasses, and this really great smile, and that accent ... oh yes. He also had goo in his hair, but I guess that's OK because it was kind of spiked up in this haphazard sort of way that isn't like the typical goo-haired look ... it was more of a kind of neo-preppy, deliberately messy look. And it really looked good on him ... and, well, he was HOT, damnit. And he looked to be roughly my age. And he lives in my building! On the 24th floor! I know he lives here because he didn't have a concierge person helping him up, which you need if you're just a visitor. So yeah. Hopefully I'll run into him again. And maybe I'll manage to speak to him coherently next time and actually look him in the eye ... now that would be cool.
Other things ... oh ... who cares. I'll talk about them some other time. It's 1:30 am ... I should be sleeping or something. Sleeping and dreaming about elevator boy. Mmmmmmmmmmm ...
Er ... goodnight.
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� Ripe Tomato 2001-2005
Don't steal my shit. I'll send thugs. Oh shut up. I do
so
have thugs. Quit laughing! Look, just don't steal my stuff, OK?
