by Paul
Sep 29, 2005 10:09
And if I'm lucky it pans out into some coherent thought I can share. This might be one of those times. Why is a "Man's Man" a cool dude. It seems to me that another man's man, is in fact, a homosexual. In either case I guess the saying is in place, so let's just roll with it.
I am a man's man. Meaning I'm not a fruit. Paul likes the ladies. I have most of my conversations with them staring at their chest. I say goodbye with a firm smack on the ass. And yes, I do kiss my mother with this mouth, bitch.
Those of you who are unfamiliar with the Beach Boys should know that big girls don't cry. You might also know what doing a shitload of acid and hanging out with Charles Manson does for your surfer/stoner rock career. Anyway that's all beside the point. Big girls don't cry, and since I'm a man's man, neither do I.
Fast forward to today. By today I mean like last week, but it's today enough for our purposes here. Let's not get caught up in specifics. So today me, myself and my friend Brandon, who we'll call Eugene, because it's a funnier name, were going to a fast food drive through. Eugene is driving, and your's truely is riding shotgun.
Really, the fast food trip has nothing to do with anything, I was just giving you a little background in case you're in charge of some sort of unauthorized Paul-Biography.
What matters is Eugene had one of those little bottles of concentrated "New Car Smell" air freshener, which he decided to spray. Good idea I thought. This car smells like hot ass.
Unbeknownst to me... no, that's not true. Knownst to me, but unaccounted for were the number of climate control vents aimed squarely at my eyes. Once that New Car Smell hit the air, all 16 vents pushed it directly into my pupils. My eyes looked like that one lady who can pop her eyes out of her head, only I'm not ridiculously played out like she is.
The following is a hit or miss transcription of the ensuing conversation.
Paul: Thanks.
Eugene: Not problem. That bottle smells great.
P: I agree, but you just sprayed all that directly in my eyes.
E: ...
P: ...
E: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
P: Fuck you asshole, this shit burns!
E: Oh shit. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
P: I hate you.
E: That's hella funny. How did I even do that, I sprayed it down here (indicating a rough area; center console)
P: Yeah dick, but your vents are on. It came right up in my face. I can't even cry because I'm too hard for the radio. MTV won't even play my video. But right now as we speak, my eyes are on fire.
E: ...
P: I really can't quite explain to you how much this hurts. And consequently how much being a super man's man hurts because I refuse to cry.
Drive Through Girl: Hi. That'll be nine dollars and... what's wrong with your friend.
E: He's gay.
P: Fuck that son. This asshole just sprayed mace in my eyes.
Drive Through Girl: Oh my god! You sprayed mace?!
P: Yeah all girls carry mace, which is why this cock socket unloaded on me after I told him he put on a few pounds and he got offended.
Drive Through Girl: Oh my god!
P: That's what I said.
Give or take all or none of those words, I think that's how the situation went. Now I know how porn stars feel. One split second of bad timing, and BAM right in the face, and you're on hurt-mode for the next 15 minutes. I swear to god if that mother fucker ruined my vision and I have to get glasses, he's paying for them, AND I get to spray aerosol hairspray right into his face with his eyelids flipped inside-out.
In related man news, I man'd the situation up, and promptly recovered 100%. If anything I think my eyes are better now because I'm building up an immunity.
Today I'm listening to: Jimmy Cliff - I Can See Clearly NowIncidentally, the moral of the story is that I should get some smarter friends. Nothing funny here people. Keep walking.