You ever find yourself lying on the beach, smoking weed from a tampon, gazing up at the stars defending Jesus' supernatural nature to a Jew and wonder... who the hell is this girl lying next to me?... let's recap.
So we went sans powder the other night. I hadn't seen this girl since the college years and the idea was just to catch up and chill - spend a night waxing philosophical. Of course, I would still be eyeing her up for a possibility of any future dating opportunities.*
So we went sans powder the other night. I hadn't seen this girl since the college years and the idea was just to catch up and chill - spend a night waxing philosophical. Of course, I would still be eyeing her up for a possibility of any future dating opportunities.*
She rolled up to the chateau around 9 or so. Her legs telescoped our of the car first, and three minutes later the rest of her torso showed up. She was a solid 6 feet tall and I swear 5 feet were legs. I didn't quite remember her looking like this. Actually I didn't quite remember much of anything about her. But hey, she's here to hang out, receive consolation, and take in some herbal refreshments. No hanky panky. After a quick tour and an hour of catch up we set off down the road to the beach.
So there we were laying on our backs, sprawled out on a patchwork hippie blanket in the middle of the sand with no one else around. We were staring upwards trying to decipher constellations and sharing some herb when The Smoker started talking about Jesus the Prophet. Much to the chagrin of every one of my left leaning atheist agnostic artistic friends, I still believe in Jesus the Superhero. A debate continued back and forth until the joint burned out. Without any paper to roll anything further, we were about to pack up and head home. However, as if to prove my point, Jesus set aside helping professional sports teams win games long enough to send a brilliant idea into her cloudy mind. And I quote: "Well I have some tampons in my purse. We can fill that up into one giant blunt and smoke it."
Seeing as I've never rolled a joint to begin with, I didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Apparently this girl was adept at rolling J's out of a variety of paper based substances including tampon wrappers. This was both alarming and impressive. After carefully aiding in rolling what looked like a giant horse turd, we continued our friendly little debate. Feeling satisfied with proving what no theologian has done in centuries before, the topic turned towards her recent dumping. I extolled my advice like I always do to my lady friends except, right at the moment when she whimperingly said, "People don't understand," I leaned over and as if on cue, planted one on her.
I had to. Don't you see? Beach. Summer. Cute vulnerable girl. Mind altering substance. Reunion. The only thing missing was a weak acoustic song from The Fray playing in the background. I had unknowingly walked into the middle a bad OC episode and was contractually obliged to kiss her. Actually, since there were no good OC episodes, let's rework that sentence to: I had unknowingly walked into the middle of an OC episode.
The rest of the night was chill. She seemed to be pretty happy with the kiss despite claiming that I took advantage of a girl on the rebound. This is probably true, but hey, it was just a kiss. It was in the moment. After a few hours The Smoker headed home and I, remembering that it was a Wednesday, decided to head to sleep. Right before we parted she eagerly shouted out with a smile:
"So, you going to blog about this escapade tomorrow?"
"What this little thing? Please, I'd just as soon write about powdering my balls."
Seeing as I've never rolled a joint to begin with, I didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Apparently this girl was adept at rolling J's out of a variety of paper based substances including tampon wrappers. This was both alarming and impressive. After carefully aiding in rolling what looked like a giant horse turd, we continued our friendly little debate. Feeling satisfied with proving what no theologian has done in centuries before, the topic turned towards her recent dumping. I extolled my advice like I always do to my lady friends except, right at the moment when she whimperingly said, "People don't understand," I leaned over and as if on cue, planted one on her.
I had to. Don't you see? Beach. Summer. Cute vulnerable girl. Mind altering substance. Reunion. The only thing missing was a weak acoustic song from The Fray playing in the background. I had unknowingly walked into the middle a bad OC episode and was contractually obliged to kiss her. Actually, since there were no good OC episodes, let's rework that sentence to: I had unknowingly walked into the middle of an OC episode.
The rest of the night was chill. She seemed to be pretty happy with the kiss despite claiming that I took advantage of a girl on the rebound. This is probably true, but hey, it was just a kiss. It was in the moment. After a few hours The Smoker headed home and I, remembering that it was a Wednesday, decided to head to sleep. Right before we parted she eagerly shouted out with a smile:
"So, you going to blog about this escapade tomorrow?"
"What this little thing? Please, I'd just as soon write about powdering my balls."
Now, if only I could remember her name.
* (This brings to mind a good point: Ladies, you should note that men DO NOT, under any circumstances, want to be your friend. So many women will say, "Oh, he'd NEVER think of me in that way." Trust me, he would. And he has. That's not to say we don't have women friends - they just happen to share the same Venn diagram circle as 'failed relationships' and 'first cousins.')
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