There are many, many funny stories to share from this past weekend. One in particular stands out, but I am too lazy to tell it right now. I really know how to create dramatic tension, don’t I? I will keep you enthralled by sharing a tiny little bit of hilarity that occurred almost as soon as I arrived.
We were sitting on Boulos’s couch (Boulos and I never had a couch while living together so that was in and of itself rather extraordinary) and watching Wheel of Fortune, or as I like to call it, “Fucking Retards on Parade.” Andy was doing something in the kitchen. I was rather good at the ole Wheel that evening, and when only a few letters were turned, I said the answer aloud, because I am an asshole who likes to ruin people’s fun.
This is what Boulos heard, and repeated with incredulity: “RIMMING?...”
And Andy from the kitchen: “RIMMING??? Do you two know what that is?”
(Um yes dad, we do. At this point, let me please point out that Andy and Boulos clearly do not practice this activity, because I am inappropriate like that.)
Me: “BRIMMING. With Possibilities.”
And I think it took about 5 more repetitions and several screen-checks to finally get off the tongue-ass subject (except on TV, I’m sure, there were still 28 letters unturned and someone was flopping on the ground, swallowing his own tongue). Then, we decided that one of us would become a prostitute, meet another prostitute name Possibilities and start hooking with her, and eventually write a memoir called “Rimming with Possibilities.”
Ah, what fun we had. It was just like when I used to hang out with the old deaf mutes at the VA hospital. The old, gay, anally obsessed deaf mutes who could shout.