Redhead Part 3
(Readez-vous part un et deux, motherfucker.)
So I admit this is kind of a limp postscript to this thrilling saga, but here goes... Sure enough I ran into these girls again last night. Pretty chilly reception, the redhead more or less completely ignored me. Unsurprising, considering my behavior last time. Once again; clap...clap...clap. Braaaa-vo.
An interesting note, however, is that I finally got a good look at the redhead in the chilling light of sobriety (never a good idea). The last two times I met her I was pretty much drunk to the point of blindness (always a good idea), so afterwards I couldn't get a clear mental picture of her face. For some reason my brain transplanted the image of the daughter from Six Feet Under. Now I find that actress pretty hot, so that's part of the reason I've been kicking myself for fucking this up twice. But seen clearly, the redhead actually doesn't really look that much like the actress; my brain was just fucking with me. Admittedly, this thinking is reminiscent of "the fox and the grapes," but whatever; fuck you, you don't know me. Stop spreading lies about me.
Some more good news, though; last time I was at these girls' apartment I could have sworn I broke something as I was being hastily ushered out. I distinctly recall the sound of glass breaking. But, I brought it up last night and they insisted there was nothing broken; hell, maybe they were just trying to get rid of me.
All in all, this should be an ongoing story, as apparently these girls are planning to come back to my neighborhood pub on a regular basis, so let the awkward conversation commence! That's actually kind of a treat, as for some perverted reason I find awkwardness really, really funny. I'm a sick fuck.
So I admit this is kind of a limp postscript to this thrilling saga, but here goes... Sure enough I ran into these girls again last night. Pretty chilly reception, the redhead more or less completely ignored me. Unsurprising, considering my behavior last time. Once again; clap...clap...clap. Braaaa-vo.
An interesting note, however, is that I finally got a good look at the redhead in the chilling light of sobriety (never a good idea). The last two times I met her I was pretty much drunk to the point of blindness (always a good idea), so afterwards I couldn't get a clear mental picture of her face. For some reason my brain transplanted the image of the daughter from Six Feet Under. Now I find that actress pretty hot, so that's part of the reason I've been kicking myself for fucking this up twice. But seen clearly, the redhead actually doesn't really look that much like the actress; my brain was just fucking with me. Admittedly, this thinking is reminiscent of "the fox and the grapes," but whatever; fuck you, you don't know me. Stop spreading lies about me.
Some more good news, though; last time I was at these girls' apartment I could have sworn I broke something as I was being hastily ushered out. I distinctly recall the sound of glass breaking. But, I brought it up last night and they insisted there was nothing broken; hell, maybe they were just trying to get rid of me.
All in all, this should be an ongoing story, as apparently these girls are planning to come back to my neighborhood pub on a regular basis, so let the awkward conversation commence! That's actually kind of a treat, as for some perverted reason I find awkwardness really, really funny. I'm a sick fuck.
posted by Dash Bradley at 3:51 PM
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