I must preface this by stating that "It was not my fault, I was mentally ill or something."

My friend Hank called me up to go out on a "blind date". I had a rough day and was beat down and wasn't into "new people". He kept on harassing me, insisting his date wouldn't go out if he couldn't find a date for her friend, handing me the standard hard sell: "she's good looking... you're supposed to be my friend..." Blah blah blah, I finally succumbed, me being a good friend and all.

We arrived at his girlfriends apartment and knocked on the door. She answered and as Hank was introducing her to me, I glanced over her shoulder and noticed MY date waddling down the hall to meet us.

This chick typified the reason a "Blind Date" should be a punishment handed down for felonies. Shackled by the handcuffs of friendship and with no visible way out of this nightmare, I reluctantly introduced myself and complimented MY date on her shoes.

We ended up at a little neighborhood bar where we shot pool, drank shots, shot the shit and basically had an OK time. The night grew on and after numerous ass-shrinking drinks I lost all raison d'être. She was goo-gooing me and rubbing my leg under the table (which concealed the lower portion of her body) and I must admit, seeing her through alcohol-soaked eyeballs convinced me that she might be worth a stem.

And besides... this girl could pound down the shots like my Mom and STILL keep her HEAD. Which is exactly what I was thinking when the bartender announced "last call". She convinced me it might be fun getting a return on my small investment in the Jack Daniels Co. and... well... suffering from an alcohol-induced moral lapse, I did what any lost dog would do... I followed her home.

I honestly don't recall how the actual stemming went. All I remember is awakening from an alcoholic coma, naked and sore (I'd done the deed). Slowly gaining lucidity, I found us laying ass cheek to ass cheek... Hers, like an alligator bag full of doorknobs. Mine, holding back enough gas to fill Macy's Mickey Mouse balloon. Gravity was pulling me toward the center of the bed like a black hole, confirming I'd misjudged her weight astronomically. She was snoring like Steven King's wife so I figured I could rip one off with out awakening her.

My sphincter, normally brighter than a 4th-year physics professor, knows the difference between solids, gas and liquid. But as fate would have it, my obviously confused wrinkle wrought a steaming coalescence of liquid disease and gas that could have dropped an Angel.

Horrified I looked over my shoulder to find my new Girlfriend still asleep, and, ever so careful not to make any sudden moves, I slid out of bed like a 12-ft python chasing a goat. I pulled the covers back over the muddy mayhem I left on her, grabbed, my clothes and tip toed into the bathroom to take a nice warm shower.

Nervous as a cat, I was rinsing my hair when I heard my DATE pounding on the bathroom door screaming "I'll kill you mother fucker! Open the door you sick son of a bitch, You bastard!" and other expletives.

Skipping a blow dry, I got my clothes on in a hurry ,all the time hearing her yelling and cursing. I knew I could beat up a girl because I beat up my sister once, but I wasn't sure I could beat up a girl I just shit on.

I slinked down the hallway to the kitchen where I found my paramour with one foot in the sink, washing her large ass with the dish rag. She gave me a venomous look and screamed "Get the fuck out of my house you son of a bitch!"

I told her how sorry I was but I don't think she was having any of it. I quickly made my way downstairs while she finished taking her sponge bath. Embarrassed but holding back a laugh, I completely lost it when I came upon her bed sheets laying on the sidewalk.

-- G Ras

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