You know, sometimes misfortune just walks up to you and kicks you right in the nards. This is one of those times.
I’ve been seeing this chick for a few months. It’s been working out pretty well so she moved in to my place a few weeks ago. She’s a full-time salesperson at Burlington Coat Factory so she brings home the dough while I try to get my NBA highlights empire off the ground (screw you, GDawkins. I could have been in on that for sure). It’s sort of a role-reversal from the typical “male works, female cleans” dichotomy, but it mirrors our lovemaking habits, so it’s cool.
Yeah, she likes to take the lead when we’re making whoopie. That might seem like too much info, but it doesn’t matter now. Nothing does.
Anyway, since she’s working so hard at selling all those ugly coats (she keeps telling me she’s this close to being shift manager, I don’t really believe her though), weekends are like, her time. She gets to choose what to do, even if it sucks. I just grin and bear it, because, like I already said, this girl is pretty much a 9/10.
(Looking back at what I wrote, it turns out that this chick’s hotness was never directly referenced. Sorry. My brain is just so scrambled right now. All you need to know is that her physical endowments were much to my satisfaction. God damn it.)
So, yeah. A 9/10 for sure. I definitely wanted to keep her around. Anything she wanted, she got. I’m pretty low on cash just about all the time these days, but I was taking out new credit cards left and right just to get her presents. Of course, whenever she wanted to eat all fancy, I picked up the bill, because I’m a gentleman. A classy gentleman.
Her idea of “fancy” doesn’t really jive with my idea of “fancy”. To me, fancy is two Big Macs assembled into one. To her, it’s those pretentious farm-to-table restaurants downtown. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, I was going into debt for this girl.
Imagine how happy I was when, this past weekend, she wanted to spend it “relaxing at home”. To me, this was a sly way of saying “nonstop banging”. That’s like the one thing that excites me more than making highlights.
My happiness was cruelly dashed when it turned out that she wanted to clean out my place. But I put on a smile and helped the GF vacuum and stuff. I kept making suggestive comments to get her in the mood but she seemed really mad about my so-called “messy” living space, so she wasn’t very receptive.
I mean, it wasn’t even that messy. It was cozy.
So I was pretty bummed having to drag all those empty Hot Pocket boxes to the dumpster. Then one of her idiot girlfriends called and GF disappeared into the bedroom to talk about god-knows-what. With her distracted, I thought I would jump on the computer (the one thing in the apartment she doesn’t get to touch; she wouldn’t know quad Nvidia GTX Titans in an SLI config if they farted in her face) and keep working on my Kyle Korver three-ilation.
That’s where things started to go wrong.
First, I got distracted, so when she finished her call and walked back into the office area, I was too slow to minimize the window and pretend to be searching for expensive jewelry. The GF can be a bit catty and this was no exception: “you don’t love me” this and “all you care about is your subscriber count” that. I just looked sad and pretended to be apologetic. However, she only cooled down when she saw a closeup of Kyle Korver’s face spread out across my triple-monitor setup.
“Who’s that?” she asked. “Is that Ashton Kutcher?”
“Oh, that’s Kyle Korver, babe,” I said. “We can roleplay if you like. I’ll be Ashton.”
She wasn’t having it. “What team does Kyle play for?”
“Atlanta,” I responded. “But we should get back to cleaning,” I suggested. I’m not gonna lie, I was feeling a little jealous. My babe doesn’t usually give a rat’s ass about basketball players.
So we finished cleaning up and went to bed. I wanted to maybe have some fun but my girl was like queen of Norway, that’s how cold she was. Whatever. Just sharing a bed with her was cool and snuggling up against her butt, that was pretty rad too.
Then, I woke up this morning with a post-it note stuck to my face. My girl’s not much of a prankster so I was pretty confused. That and I’m not really a morning person, so I was disoriented for a few minutes. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but I thought I had gone blind. Oh well, we all have our moments, right?
The note read simply, “I just caught a plane to Atlanta to unite with my true love. I hope you die, loser.”
Ouch.
Now, this wouldn’t be so bad in isolation, but this isn’t the first time that Kyle Korver has stolen one of my girlfriends. It also happened back in December (search my old vids if you don’t believe me). So, my only hope is that my exes end up killing each other in jealousy.
Damn it. She was hot too. Oh well, live and learn. That stupid bimbo is Kyle’s problem now. DownToBuck out. Peace.