*I am still trying to get the lady who was accosted at the dog park to come out of her house and give me the names of D.C.’s worst cops. I have not forgotten.*
So, I had a typical “old-school” Velvet kind of week and weekend. But in the spirit of not venturing down the personal lane ever again, I’ll leave it at this handy recap:
Punches thrown: 2
Vacations Planned: 3
Vacations Booked: 1
Number of dogs in my condo: 6
People who told me I was their soulmate: 1
Times 911 was called: 1
Times 911 asked me to repeat my story: 2
Times 911 called back and asked me to repeat story again: 1
Number of colors the witnesses reported the perp’s shirt as being: 4
Number of times my stuff has been demanded back from the hostage taker: 3
Number of times hostage taker has refused, using the same excuse used in all other situations where stuff is being held hostage: 3
Times I thought about putting hostage taker’s balls in a vice grip: 114
Time in the sun: 6 hours
Time at the bar: 5 hours
Possible gunshots fired: 2
Times jaw dropped to floor: 2. Once when I learned I was the subject of a rumor so delicious that even I don’t care to deny it and once I bumped into someone who I thought I might never see again.
Hours spent embroiled in newest brewing scandal: 6
Obnoxious strangers who disrespected me and then felt my wrath: 2. One picked up her dog and completely left the dog beach, the other took his strollers and multiple children and hopefully went back to the suburbs. There is a third if you count the bitch from the week before who I called a “dumb cunt” when she accosted me in front of 20 people to accuse me of abusing my dogs. I didn’t know that tying them outside the post office while I went in to mail a package qualified for abuse. Thankfully she invaded both my space and didn’t mind her business to tell me.
Times my life came 359 degrees, shocking me so much I landed in a cab, flying across town to complete the final degree: 1. And it was worth every minute.
Okay, so I don’t even know how to respond to this one. Shit man. Your weekend totally kicks my weekend’s ass.
my weekend was boring as shit. no punches thrown, no hostages, no degrees, but some bar time. that’s about it.
And see, this is why neither I nor anyone needs to feel sorry for you.
How many soulmates total is that now?
number of times you failed to recognize that “someone who I thought I might never see again”– 1.
One word for you, lady:
I always regret punching people.
Coz I prefer to kick em in the sack!
yeah umm..i cant add much to whorebucket …im thinking that sums it up!!!!! 🙂
MA – Is it any consolation to know that I really planned to spend it inside reading?
Chud – There is always bar time for you.
Ulysses – How many think I’m their soulmate or how many do I find to be my soulmate? Because those numbers are not the same.
Tums – Oh…tums…I got you under the jaw dropping as well as the speeding cab. But, yes, I really thought I would never see you again. In a town this small, that is virtually impossible though, as was proven on Saturday.
Mystery Girl – No, YOU are the whorebucket! That’s your tagline now!
Johnny – Dirty fighter.
SB – Yeah, it’s true. And you girls really thought I was going to go eat with you! HAHA!
FK – Whorebucket #2 (Mystery Girl is still #1) still is in pain, if it makes you feel better.
How many think so I think is the number that goes best with this weekend right?
Y’know, the original Colonel Sanders ran a “gentleman’s club” (“I swear honey, I only go for the chicken!”). There probably was some confusion during the transition, and I think one of the early menu items was the whorebucket.
god damn you uly..now i want “fried chicken”
so, a whorebucket. is that a bucket of whores? if so, i’ll take 3. or is it the bucket a whore uses to spit in after a john shoots one off in her mouth? if that, i’ll take none. but a BJ would suffice.
Chud, I have seen the bucket of whores outside your house. No sense in calling them. They know where you live. Whore spit in buckets? That reminds me, as I emailed out to some people last week, google the following. I was number one for it.
my friend saves his cum
Times I thought about putting hostage takers balls in a vice grip:
I don’t normally advocate blasphemy, but I wouldn’t blame you for taking my name in vain a few times over all that.
Throwing punches? Possible gunshots? I’m thinking of making you an honorary ninja.
So does that make me Whore #3 because you know, I’ve fucked just as many assholes as you have this month! ALL OF YOU!