First things first. The fuckers at It’s Just Lunch called back at a hair before 5 on Friday. They said I was “placed on hold,” and usually there is a letter in the file indicating that the client received a copy of said letter outlining the ‘hold terms.’ However, surprise, that letter is nonexistent, and they realize a mistake was made. I again explained that the last crew of employees was a disaster, and she agreed, saying, “You have no idea what we are dealing with over here. People are really pissed off.” Nope, I’m pretty sure I understand.
Anyway, this time I have faith, not of course in their matchmaking skills, but their general competence to set me up on a day I say I’m available. This girl who called back was a “Director” as opposed to the “Coordinator” who answered the phone the other day. Usually each office has two Directors and two Coordinators. The job of the Director is to do everything possible up to and including oral and anal, to get you to part with your money. The Coordinator’s job is to ruin your life with dates scheduled for the days you say you have open heart surgery, send you to restaurants that don’t exist, and send you to meet people who don’t show up.
I’ve given them my schedule and they have “two matches” for me. No I didn’t write anything down because even in the two guys they described, they both sound the same. Both are the same height, both got their MBA from GMU. Seriously. Are they just reading the same file over and over? And let’s face it, according to them, I’m in a volleyball league, so I would say the integrity of their information is worthless. Blech. Well, it’s almost over. And it’s practice so I don’t screw up with someone real.
I dragged a few girls to a party. Tell your friends!” The Queen of Quantity loves a whole new crowd, and since we rarely leave the dog park anymore, off we went, grabbing Eternal Freshman on the way. Drunk? Yes. But beer only for me. And okay, a sip of that jungle juice, holy moly, what was in that shit??
At one point in the evening, Kathryn’s man was pointing out a few people in the crowd. Pointing at one, he said, “That’s the guy who we mentioned has the White House gig.” And Kathryn said, “Velvet rides a motorcycle. Something tells me a man with a White House job isn’t exactly her type of crowd.”
Touche. Truer words were never spoken.
As I saw the Queen of Quantity cozy up to someone whose aura was far beyond that of what I’d call a metrosexual, I sent her a text saying as much. Only it was written in a “meant for her eyes only.” What does she do? Reads the text with him reading from over her shoulder. I scream, “NO!” She then tosses me her phone as he’s jumping to reach it, and I run for the end zone, deleting the text along the way. Touchdown. The crowd goes wild. Please. Like any man can compete with me in heels. People please. If we’re out and I send you a text, don’t share with the person you just met! I use that texting function to point out things that can’t be said out loud!
On my way out, I caught the tail end of a bit of Cookie, but according to popular vote, that is the end you would want to catch, you know, provided you had a choice and only one was available.
And I reminded myself again why it is never a good idea to see the hours of 3 a.m. and beyond, especially in my neighborhood. Walking the true loves of my life, a guy pulled up alongside me on 18th Street and said, “Do you need help walking those dogs?” I said, “Nope.” And he says, “Are you sure?” I say, “Yeah, look at them, they practically walk themselves!” He says, “Cause I’ll help you.” And I say, “Have a good night!” Finally he drives off.
Not even 15 steps later, a guy passes me on a bike and says, “Can I talk to you?” I said, “What? Are you lost?” He goes, “No, come here, I want to talk to you.” I said, “Honey, I don’t come to men. They come to me.” (Cough. Not very often.) And I kept walking. I pass a couple girls, stumbling home from Adam’s Morgan, and I hear one of them say, “Well don’t just stare at her ass, why don’t you go talk to her?” Lord. Woman, if I could shove my size 7 cork high heel shoe in your fat mouth, believe me I would.
Guess who comes peddaling around the corner on to S Street as my dogs are milling around someone’s front yard? Yeah. Bike boy. Words written for him in this convo are exactly as he said them.
Bike Boy: I come to talk to you.
Velvet: What do you want?
Bike Boy: What do all guys want?
(Yes yes, we really have a winner here.)
Velvet: Are you kidding me?
Bike Boy: I not from here. I don’t know. But I want to know you.
Velvet: Really? Want to come back to my house and know me? You can meet my boyfriend too while you’re there.
Bike Boy: I see you every day.
Bike Boy: I know you live here. On this street. I see you every day. Walking your dogs.
(I admit, the balance of power just tipped in his direction and I didn’t bring my mace with me.)
Velvet: Yeah. Great. Well, I have to go now.
Bike Boy: Ok. I go with you.
(I feel like I’m in that scene in the best movie ever, Loverboy, where Rob Camiletti tries to have sex with Randy – Patrick Dempsey’s mom – who is Kate Jackson. She says no, and he follows her on his scooter screaming, “But I Love you!”)
Velvet: No. I have to go home. And you are not coming with me.
(Bike Boy continues to ride along slowly next to me.)
(We pass two lesbians and I look at them, pleading with my eyes for them to scare him somehow, but they are too busy thinking about getting home, obviously. Then Bike Boy almost runs over Thora.)
Velvet: Ok. You have to go. Goodbye.
Finally he rides off. Jesus. What the hell? As the night progresses and I get drunker, I want LESS to do with anything stumbling out of a bar than at any point in time earlier in the night.
So, Sunday. After a particularly violent waxing session (seriously, WTF?) I spent my day as usual, laying in the sun – well, what there was of it.
Sounds like you had quite the interesting weekend. Maybe it’s going to be a full moon soon, who the f*ck knows?
Hope you have a great week.
What a psycho that bike guy was…AH. Had a blast at the party. Always interesting to meet a new crowd.
Oh bla deee oh bla daaa life goes on …OOOH….lada hada life goes on…
Sorry I HAD to do it. Someone had to. 🙂
Here is my question. Was the bike boy ugly? heh.
I have tried many angles in an attempt to get a date, but I will admit that riding around the city on my bike at 3AM is not one of them. Geez.
I’m with Siryn. Got a camera on that fancy phone of yours?
Girls, he was a weirdo. My “weirdometer” has been fine tuned after what I went through with the last piece of shit bastard. I’m not picking up any more freaks, or letting any more freaks pick me up. So, a big negative on that one.
Holy smokes! No kidding you need a weirdometer with those types walking about. But then again, that’s part of living in the city. I just hope he doesn’t have an MBA from MSU, or the next post will have to be called “it’s just mace”.
oops, I meant to say GMU… I don’t know what MSU is… maybe Major pSycho University?
that bike is SO not working for me. i’ll be on a moped next weekend.
Yikes, scary! And I hate it when the eyes of “HELP!” don’t work.
Heh heh heh – for once, I know exactly who all the players are on this post. Awesome.
And sorry about the motorcycle/White House thing…I’m a big drunk blurter. A truthful one, but a blurter nonetheless.
See, if that guy had been on a vespa, you would’ve totally been hot for him.
I only asked if he was good looking… not trying to commit you to a relationship with the guy! That’s all. 🙂
OOOh, sounds like you got a winner on your hands with Bike Boy.
I jest, of course.
I never thought about riding my bike around at 3 a.m. as a pickup method, but gosh it just makes so much sense. Now if I can only improve on this guy’s lines…
Raincouver – You kid, but eventually my dating worlds will collide. Mark my words.
Double O – If you’re going for the gay look, maybe rollerskates and some short shorts? Let me see that first before you go to the trouble of getting a scooter, which on a gay scale of 1-10, is clearly a 9. Depending on color.
Scarlet – Yeah, some help they were.
Kathryn – No need to apologize. I thought it was hilarious, and quite fitting. In fact, I rode in to work today and I have the faint smell of motor oil competing with my Angel perfume. Hot. Ok, not really.
I66 – A Vespa? HA!
Siryn – Ok, ok. He was average.
Mel – Just my luck.
Do you think IJL just didn’t call you to tell you about the 3am date with Bike Boy?
I just wanted to get a peek at the weirdness!
The suburbia is deafening over here.
Thank you for making me laugh on an otherwise sucky day. Maybe we can practice texting with my new Blackberry some time so that if I ever do get a text message from you I will at least know how to read it! And I promise not to share…
I know who bike boy is!
It’s that COP! They finally found him and kicked him off the force and he’s come back in retaliation, on his bicycle, and wants sex!
Yup, that’s it!
Is no one else cracking up about the “I not from here. I dont know. But I want to know you.”?
Apparently, Velvet, sarcastic snarkiness at 3 a.m. invites overly-literal, sexually-charged foreigners… while providing me with an hours-long laugh.
A Weirdometer? Is that a Greek thing, a girl thing, or a thing you pick up over time? 🙂
You are a trooper for sure!
Holy crap! I hope you have BIG dogs- bike boy is psychotic! Careful out there Velvet!! As for the rest of the story.. FREAKIN HI-LARIOUS!
~Fab : )
From one hot tail to another…sorry I couldn’t get there earlier to, you know, have a conversation?
I want you to start carrying mace. ASAP. We’ll adopt you now. Jake and your sweeties will get along just fine!
Oh man. Hilarious post AND comments. I think KM has a good point– maybe IJL is trying a little unconventional guerilla dating tactics on you. They see a challenge and they’re donning the grease paint. They’re going to capture that hill if it’s the last thing they do, youknowwhatI’mean?
Saturday night was hilarious. Loved playing soccer on the roof, drinking murky, delicious and dangerous punch, and meeting new people– ESPECIALLY Corky, although I didn’t get a chance to compliment him on his amazing acting abilities despite his obvious neurological challenges. Next time.
Well Velvet, at least you didn’t get hit on by your CAB driver! Yes, I know how to pick’em. I’m in the cab eating caramel corn (post alcohol necessity), and he’s trying to find out the story of my life.
Cuff – If you can speak English, then I think you can improve on his lines.
KM – HA! Yeah, and my next date is at Arlington Cemetary. Third tombstone from the left.
Playful – I am coming to that Redneck town whenn you move there, and we will rip it up. Properly.
Barbara – Shockingly, that’s not the first time that’s happened to me.
Red – That cop is SO never going to come back. Sad. I’ll never get him!
Chico’s Bail Bonds – You know, it never seems like a bad idea when I entertain the drunks.
Sharkie – No, it IS a Greek thing, Seriously.
Fabu – My dogs suck. They wouldn’t defend me for shit. They are too lovey dovey, trying to get attention from everyone in the neighborhood.
Cookie – But I didn’t win an AWARD! You did!! And yes, more drinking together and more talking next time!
CrazyGirl – I’ll be the bastard child of you and Joe. Oh wait, unless you found that license. Damn I love that story. And did you get my message about the other stuff?
EF – Where did the caramel corn come from? Damn, you’re resourceful.
Have you heard about Hollaback NYC? The website where women post photographs of their street harrassers.
Get some Mace. And a cameraphone if you don’t have one already. Seriously.
Oh… just tell Bike Boy to stalk your blog instead of you in the flesh. That’ll solve the problem =;-)
Velvet, as an homage to your experience with 7-11, I stumbled in for a late night snack on my way to hail a cab.
ok, bike boy sounds incredibaly creepy. I dont even care if he’s hott. Following a woman like that is never cool. Stay away!
Yes I did. I’ve just been too hung over to return the call. Thank you for all that info.
And we never found the license, but the original finally surfaced at the clerk’s office.
Woohoo! Boobies! Hilarious new new header, but am missing the old funny tagline.
Sounds like a mentally-handicapped, immigrant stalker. Suggestion: In the morning, grab keys, purse, mace, whatever….
Btw, read a few of your other post and rather than noting on them all, I gotta tell ya, you’re almost as angry a blogger as me sometimes. I dig it! and No, I’m not hitting on you, “I just want know you” LOL!
Funny shit. Great stuff.