The monkey made me do it

Dear Mr. Big Stuff,

You made me laugh hard last weekend, and now I'm going to explain why.

When your two rather suave friends came over and challenged my buddy and I to a doubles game of pool, we only accepted because we both were trying to avoid the really big guy sitting in the booth off to the side of the bar. He was her blind date, and I was supposed to be the chaperone but I'd quit after roughly five minutes of awkward conversation with him and instead got my friend to play pool with me. Obviously, he wasn't that impressive, and I knew that pool would keep her happy since she always kicks my ass and she hadn't had a night out since she got pregnant many, many months ago (you did notice the big belly, right? And how I was constantly mentioning how the change in her center of gravity was giving her an advantage on trick shots?)

So, basically, you and your friends interrupted my attempt to divert my hugely pregnant friend away from her lame blind date, and in the process get destroyed at pool and try to get some Bowie on the jukebox. I was just a little busy.

Your friends are great. Very smooth. They immediately tried to divide and conquer with my friend and I, and attempted to offend the blind date guy or at least prod him into conversation by asking him which of the two of us he preferred as a wife since none of us bothered to explain the real situation to them. When you moseyed over, I could see you assessing the situation and drawing a blank (which, by the way, was hilarious to watch). I find it amusing that you have to hang in such a nasty dive bar with two middle-aged player wannabes when you are, in truth, a very attractive, well-dressed man who probably has no trouble getting the attention of attractive, well-dressed women. You instead tried to start a few unsuccessful conversations with my friend and I, who were dodging your buddies and dodging the big lump of man off in the booth WHILE trying to play pool. I think I said two things to you. Nothing personal.

Here's where it got good. You were cute, obviously far above the level of any other man in the bar. My friend and I were high up on the female end of the pool (not by choice or manipulation - it was a small bar). When we ignored you (she wasn't looking for anyone at this point, and only met the date dude to make him stop calling her, and I was just in it for the chaperoning and entertainment), you threw an all-out hissy fit that I have honestly never seen in a man. Your exhibited behavior is more likely found in the legions of orange-skinned, over madeup generic blonde girls who frequent the Pioneer Square area trying to find someone, ANYONE who will ask them to lift up their shirt. You yelled at me while I was trying to take a shot, fumed about the Seattle weather, got snippy, and then said rude things about us when we finally left (we lost on purpose, by the way). It was the worst case of "LOOK AT ME" syndrome that I have ever seen, and it was magnificent.

So, thank you. For showing me that men can be as stupid and attention-whoring as women, and for giving me a great impression to do whenever the party gets slow (especially the spitting, I LOVED the spitting).

-Jay

posted by LadyJay @ 11:10 AM