Monday, January 23, 2006

Top Ten South Beach Anecdotes

1 ... well, let's start at the END shall WE? The number-one-most-pathetic ... a date you meet on -- it's so perfect, cocktails at trendy Nexxt Café -- yet, discussing the relative location of the urethra and the vagina while sipping on mojitos ... you'd think he'd be a prime suspect for sex, but no ... vaginal anatomy is so NOT the topic of conversation before coitus! Guys, hint: want pussy? Don't TALK ABOUT pussy!

2. Your platonic-male-but-straight friend dumping you while you're pissed drunk at Van Dyke because his ex-girlfriend placed a rescue call -- she was having a blind date with self-proclaimed pervert who looked like Bill Clinton and needed an excuse to leave. "Could you please call me and pretend it's my kid's babysitter?" After a few margaritas at Rancho Grande, it occured to me that we should actually go and witness her embarrasment from the vantage point of the upstairs bar. "Dude," I told him, "it's such an obvious ploy to get laid!" I swaggered home -- alone -- with no one to rescue me. And platonic-male-but-straight friend had a romp for old time's sake. Well, that's what friends are for. Enabling meaningless sex with people you'd never be friends with. Oh, the irony!!!

3. The guy who played pool at Finnegans with a hole in the crotch of his jeans. Eight balls and a stick just weren't enough for one-hole wonder.

4. Meeting a poker-crazed Philadelphian at the Irish Pub on Washington and finding yourself at a casino in Tunica, Mississippi several months later, all expenses paid.

5. Your girlfriend leaves the Art Deco festival early while having drinks at The Hotel. The reason: to buy a chicken for dinner with her boyfriend. Next think you know, she's pregnant. Warning: fucking idiots and eating rotisserie makes you horny and then you have babies. No more Boston Market for me!!!

6. Blind faith. Love is blind, after all: You're dating another idiot you met on, and after whisking you away in his moldy-smelling 1980's Mercedes Benz, he treats you to the sushi-all-you-can-eat-buffet on Washington Avenue, the sort of place you go to eat with your friends when you're broke, complete with unflattering flourescent lighting and loud TV blaring sports. This time the topic of conversation is not the female urinary tract, but how he just sprang for a condo on millionare's row. "So you can plunk down a down payment but can't spend more than $20 on dinner? CHEAP FUCKING BASTARD!"

7. Your former best friend, from a Hispanic country in Europe that shall remain unnamed, regaling you with the tale of how, even though she completely took any unspeakable and grotesque form of sex her cross-eyed boyfriend offered, could not bear the thought of inserting a medicinal suppository into her vagina. So while said maniacally jealous boyfriend was performing the clinical duty, she closed her eyes and started to think about something that would get her mind off the object, which is about the size of a thumb, to treat a yeast infection. "Fer, fer ... " she moaned. Of course, said boyfriend thought she was fantasizing about that gorgeous American Airlines employee Fernando who once treated me to business class, when in fact, she was thinking about her friend Fernanda, the restaurant owner who has as much sex appeal as hat full of dandruff. Ah, but the tales of my former friend's genital and urinary history are the stuff of legend. On a way to a party, in the elevator, completely sober and among mixed company, she loudly proclaimed that she had a UTI and needed to change her pantyliner.

7. Speaking of, why don't they call it So many relationships have NOT happened as a result of this dating service. So many marriages have not taken place! So many babies have not been had! So many divorces have been avoided!

8. Never, EVER trust a guy who keeps a variety pack of condoms and Astroglide within plain sight of the untidy and unmade bed.

9. While enjoying a moon lit skinny-dip swim in the bay among friends, someone -- oh god, there's always SOMEONE -- has to bring up the unsavory subject of anal sex.

10. Being told by an art curator and historian that I would've been Picasso's next muse, love of his life, in fact, that I even look like the mother of his child. Great ... HE'S DEAD!!!

BONUS ANECDOTE ... Argentine, unemployed, forty-something child of Nazi immigrants, walking with you down Miami Beach Marina, and he decides to throw rocks at stray cats ... END OF RELATIONSHIP.


Manola B

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Joseph said...
Thats it!
You are now officially being read every day by me. Quality, thats all I can say.
I do have one idea though, the sex ads you posted earlier, could be great material for me to call/email/send pictures while on the sauce and see what kind of replies I can get. Ha ha, that would be great!
1:22 PM