How You Doin’ Blondie?

A Rose By Any Other Name…
April 14, 2008, 12:19 am
Filed under: Life, Men, Reflections, sex, thoughts | Tags: , , ,

Went to a strip club with my friend the other day, and when I stepped outside for some fresh air, I noticed some prick had parked his Dodge Viper right in front, in the fire lane. He wasn’t anywhere in sight, and obviously thought his car was too precious to park in the spaces reserved for us mere mortals. So I just kind of stood there and stared at the car, fuming silently. My friend was standing next to me, having a cigarette, and is apparently clairvoyant because he reached over and rubbed my shoulder while saying, “Calm down baby, just relax, don’t say anything,” (obviously his wife has made him sit through Steel Magnolias, he knows how Southern girls are). I quelled the urge to point out that the Viper parked by the curb wasn’t worth as much as any of my automobiles, and I turned to walk back inside. My path was immediately blocked, however, by a man striding brusquely through the doors wearing an outfit he purposely bought a size too small so as to showcase his physique. I took one look at the guy, and his tribal arm band tattoo, and I leaned in and whispered in my friend’s ear, “All the tea in China, that’s his Viper.” My friend rolled his eyes, kissed my mouth gently, and then shushed me; but we both turned to watch where this guy went. Sure as shootin’, Slab Bulkhead swaggered right on down to that Viper and threw a pack of cigarettes through the open sunroof. I groaned loudly and my friend pinched my ass and said “Shhh baby, watch this.” As Butch Deadlift is making his way back into the club, my friend does one of those cool, aloof, guy-nods in the direction of the Viper and says “That your ride, man?” (A  question which elicited the mother of  all eye-rolls from me, which went largely unnoticed as Splint Chesthair had obviously already made the incorrect assumption that I was one of the dancers and thus unworthy of legitimate conversation). Stump Beefknob then stopped, and without any hesitation or trepidation at all, of any kind whatsoever, replied, “Nah man, that’s my mom’s. I drive an XJ-8.”

Then he went back inside.

I waited for my friend to finish his cigarette and then we followed suit. Later in the evening, we got to talking about Dirk Hardpeck and I realized my initial irritation had been replaced with a sort of reluctant respect. The guy might have been a douche-bag, but he had the stones to admit his was driving his mother’s car. I don’t know many guys whose precious ego could sustain that kind of blow – and Gristle McThornbody made the omission in such a nonchalant, almost dismissive manner.

As obnoxious to the core as I’m sure he is; big ups to Blast Thickneck for being a momma’s boy and owning it. You go on now and do your thing, Brick Steelflex.

12 Comments so far
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Excellent glasses you wear.


Comment by theroadnow

Sorry about your run-in with Stone Wildendorff. I think I saw him the other day while I was fueling up my tricked-out Hyundai Sonata (24 inch rims, spinners, fuzzy dice, Yosemite Yam mudflaps).

He gave me an eye, and I nodded in hesitant respect to his XJ-8. As he tore the receipt from the gas pump, he querried:

“Those your wheels?”

I flipped my Oakley Blades down and snapped my gum, trying to mimic the hero in the last 80’s movie I’d seen: Top Gun. “Yeah.” I snapped the gum again, and maintaining my air of utter coolness, jumped behind the wheel of my 2004 girl-getter, then burned a 4 foot strip right there in front of him.

When the smoke cleared I leaned out the window and looked back. Stone was chewing on his lower lip. He’d been reduced to the role of Val Kilmer’s Ice Man, from that classic 80’s film.

Me? I’d always be Maverick….

Comment by magus71

To Adam – Thanks. Although I was really hesitant to do so, I had to give credit where credit was due.

Comment by How You Doin Blondie

To Doug – This is how good you are: I actually felt slightly embarassed for you as you snapped your gum…I bet the girls just can’t keep their hands off your bad self. True story: when I was 14, the fire department in my hometown bought a shiny brand new fire truck to add to their fleet. To christen the new acquisition, they bought those mud-flaps with the outline of the girl reclining back with her breasts thrust forward on them. But you sir, with Yosemite Sam, have blown them right out of the water 😉

Comment by How You Doin Blondie

Firemen can get a way with a lot. Witness their only-slightly-gay calenders.

Maybe I’m just jealous ’cause when I was a cop, everyone hated us, but the fire dudes were getting slaps on the back and signing autographs for saving some one’s basement and their autistic cat, Twitters.

Comment by magus71

Well the important thing is that you’ve moved on and have resolved any bitterness.

I don’t have an autistic cat named Twitters, but I do have an epileptic dog named Cody. He started seizing while I was walking him one day, and we wound up being driven home by a fleet of the neighborhood’s finest. Not making you feel any better, is it? Well, you’ve heard the old joke, right? “God made cops so firefighters would have heroes”? Does that put any spring back in your step? Additionally, I will admit that I have noticed that firefighters do possess a certain arrogance that’s noticeably missing from your average police officer.

I think I remember reading that you were in law enforcement once…*sigh* brains and brawn, be still my heart. 😉

Comment by How You Doin Blondie

I have some Applied Mathematics homework I need help with….

Comment by magus71


But thanks 😉

Comment by How You Doin Blondie

What’s wrong with wearing tight shirts?

Comment by Joe

Well there’s nothing wrong with it, unless you’re a gym rat who just wreaks of the Jeresy Shore…and then you’re opening yourself up to name-calling.

Comment by How You Doin Blondie

I’m a gym squirrel who wreaks of Naragansett Bay, what does that open me up to?

Comment by Joe

Should I really answer that, Joe? 😉

Comment by How You Doin Blondie

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