A most torrid affair. Or something like that.

The following story has absolutely nothing to do with me. It's about a totally fictional character. But I'm going to tell it in third person just so it flows more naturally. Ok whatever I'm totally lying. This story is 100% from me, about me, starring me, etc. etc. It's my damn story. And it breaks all of my rules as it's completley linked to my personal life and furthermore, it casts me in a terribly negative light by association. But the thing is, it's so utterly ridiculous, I just can't help it. In fact, it happened a week ago, and I have told it in bits and pieces to friends since then, but it was not until tonight w/ Stu, the V, and Aly v. fine that I at last told it in full detail, to the bitter end, and it just felt so good, that I have to do it again.

I guess I have to start at the beginning right? Well I don't really. I mean really I can do whatever the f I want. But it helps if i provide some context. Here u are: Months ago, I go to a bar. I meet a boy. He's hot. A little sketch, maybe, but he's hot, so whatever. Let's move forward several months. I still have motivation to text/call said hot guy. He' still sketch. In fact, he's fully useless. But again, still hot, and that's all that matters, no?

So this all terminates at last Tuesday night. I'm at dinner, receive a text, and I end up driving down to Redondo Beach. Do you know how taxing that is? He gives shitty directions so I get lost. If you know me you know that I HATE getting lost cuz it totally stresses me out, makes me feel stupid, and then I get all sweaty-palms nervous and freak and my blood pressure goes up. So getting lost in my opinion really is not even healthy. Keep that in mind. Oh for the record I gave up a perfectly good TNDC with my friendsies for this trip down south.

Anyway, I eventually arrive at said guy's house. It's a shit hole. No wait, it's just a hole. But if I took a shit in it, it would then be a shit hole. I am almost afraid of parking in the lot, and I think my face looks like I just smelled a pile of vomit as I climb the stairs. The house is frat house from hell. It smells. I don't do smelly places, let alone places with empty vodka bottles hanging out on the random ass ping-pong table surfaces. I guess this is kid's friends house where kid is living temporarily.

After my tour, which includes more smelly places and stinky things including a bedroom that needs to be disinfected for a year solid until it's fit to live in and said kid's "bed" which I shit you not is a giant bean bag chair, I collapse...on said bean bag chair. What really do I say? I have driven myself to this place voluntarily. So I begin my line of questioning. This kid lives with an older couple in a house that is actually quite nice. Why no more? B/c the couple had a baby and he wanted to give them privacy. That was 1+ months ago. So you're still here why? Are you like one of those Christians who wears the shirts made out of hair and you're killing yourself softly in repentance for the sins you've committed? B/c living in this house has to be the equivalent.

So let me give you more vital stats on this kid:
--He live in this shithole temporarily b/c his normal house is rented from...his boss.
--He lives with...his boss.
--He wants to quit his job...so living w/ boss is awkward.
--His job is...I don't really know. Something to do with soccer. And leagues.
--He's in school part time.
--He's in...college...working on his bachelor's...at age 26.
--He's in...junior college. At age 26.
--He has no job prospects.
--He has no car.
--Because it's at his grandmother.
--Because she paid it out of impoundment after his DUI.

And here I sit. On a beanbag chair. With a 26 year old fairly unemployable jr. college non-grad who really has no house, and no car.

I look at myself. I'm in Michael Kors heels. I'm freshly manicured. I have been employed for over 5 months even though I have yet to graduate...from grad school. And I'm dying to hook up, with, this guy?

Thing is, this is only the cake. The icing comes when after some odd behavior prompts me to inquire if he has a girlfriend. Five minutes of prodding and it comes out that he has something. Not exactly a girlfriend, but a something.

So again. I'm here 20+ miles from home at 1am on a beanbag chair with a 26 year old unemployable jr. college non-grad who has no house and no car. Oh wait! He does have a girlfriend though. So at least he's got that going for him. It just doesn't so much go for me. So I did what I had to do and after a brief stare down I removed myself from the beanbag chair, and the scary house, and headed for greener and less stinky pastures. That is where the story ends.

Ok then. So...maybe...I sound rather like a snotty bitch in this entry. And for that I cross myself, and I'm not even Christian so I don't even cross myself but I'm doing it metaphorically b/c we Jews don't really have an equivalent. We do fast one day a year though. And I feel a liiiiiiiiiiitle bad for this excessive snarkiness, but, yo, dude had a girlfriend.