21 December 2002

Quick Update

Because last night was entirely too funny and I need a break from a coding problem.

Considering I have been working 12 - 16 hour days lately, I knocked off 'early' last night and went out dancing with two of my girl friends, one of whom is single; the other has a serious boyfriend (who didn't tag along last night). Normally, we abstain from going out on Friday and Saturday nights as everybody and their dog comes into the center from the peripheries, making pubs and clubs into a night long exercise of 'Push.Shove.Try not to spill your Drink.Try not to get a Drink spilled on you. Try not to get burned by someone's cigarette. Repeat.' We made an exception last night and headed off to our what is normally our Thursday night haunt.

Lately, our Thursday night haunt hasn't been as happening as compared to last year. Last year, we couldn't walk two paces without drooling on ourselves because of some hottie. For some reason, this year's Thursday night Drool Factor has noticeably declined. But based on last night's experience, I think we'll be switching to Friday nights, despite the massive crowds, as the Drool Factor was insanely high. One guy in particular caused all three of us to cream our panties every time he walked by us (a considerable feat, considering the three of us all have very diverse tastes in guys.) Chiseled bod, high cheekbones, pouty lips, olive skin, long-ish black hair, dark eyes, tight ass.

A couple of guys invited the three of us to join their party in the VIP section. These guys were nice, but not necessarily jaw droppingly gorgeous. But Club Bunny Rule #1 is 'Never turn down an invite into priveè' and Club Bunny Rule #2 is 'Never Turn Down Free Alcohol If You Can Be Sure It Isn't Spiked', both of which applied here. So we're dancing in priveè and we see Cream Your Panties Boy hanging around outside the entrance. One of my girl friends, fortified with Vodka and Red Bull wings, invited Cream Your Panties Boy and his friend (who wasn't bad, either.) to join us. Introductions began...(the following is already translated into English and keep in mind I'm am trying not to drool while conversing with him...)

Cream Your Panties Boy: Ciao, I'm *******
Yours Truly: My name is ***
Cream Your Panties Boy: You're not Italian, are you?
Yours Truly: No, I'm American.
Cream Your Panties Boy: From where?
Yours Truly: Texas.
Cream Your Panties Boy: Ah. I've been to New York a few times. It was cool.
Yours Truly: Were you there for vaction?
Cream Your Panties Boy: No, I go there for work.
Yours Truly: Ah. What do you do?
Cream Your Panties Boy: I'm a male underwear model. I go there for the fashion shows.

And at that I was rendered speechless. I was already picturing him nude, but the words 'male underwear model' sent my imagination into warp drive. Him. A pair of briefs. A large bulge in said briefs. Walking down a catwalk. Turning around to show how well the briefs hug his ass. I wanted to rip his clothes off right there. I am dead sure the under-endowed don't have too much success as male underwear models. (Well, pretty sure anyway. If there are any male underwear models out there reading this, feel free to prove or disprove my theory) I hate picking up in clubs, and I'm not fond of one night stands, but in this case I was more than willing to break both rules.

No such luck. He ended up hitting on my girlfriend - the one who has a serious boyfriend. She couldn't resist some heavy flirting, but at the end refused to give him her phone number, choosing to stay true to her man and not give temptation another opportunity(and yes, she had told him she was attached early on in the conversation).

We could have killed her. Not only does she manage to pick up Cream Your Pants Boy, but she doesn't give him her phone number. Which means our chances of going out in a group situation with him (and subsequently giving the two of us a second chance at hooking up) is nil.

Yeah, our logic is perverse. Sue us. We're talking about a male underwear model here. Which, while not necessarily a very good candidate for a long term relationship, is definitely something that would make a great story when your tits start bouncing against your kneecaps.

Oh well. I must admit, I never thought the phrase 'I am a male underwear model' would render me speechless. And on that note, back to coding....

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