October 6, 2004

• Caught staring…

  
  

  I was coming home from a friend’s birthday party the other night. A little tipsy, I had ducked out early because I needed to wake up by 7 the next day, and seeing how the subways only ran until 1:30, I didn’t want to miss my ride home.

  
  

  I got into the completely empty subway car and collapsed into one of the seats, still relishing the great time I had at the party that evening. My head kind of hurt, and though I wasn’t drunk in all senses of the word, I was hoping I wouldn’t have a hangover in the morning because I needed to help my friend move the next day.
  

  I closed my eyes and tried to sleep but it was of no use. I tossed and turned for a bit in the seat but the sandman just wouldn’t visit so I straightened up, opened my eyes……
  

  ……..and saw the most gorgeous pair of breasts I had ever seen.
  

  All these alarms started going off in my brain. My senses were aflame. I stared in glorious wonder.
  

  They were a thing of beauty, I tell you. Double D’s pouring out of a spaghetti string top with just the right amount of freckles peppered over the top of the cleavage. It reminded me of some metaphor I can’t think of right now. I nearly creamed my pants right then and there.
  

  Now, like many of you bumbling idiots out there, I didn’t realize I was staring so hard and so long until the drool started dripping from my open mouth onto my shirt. I shook out of my mini trance and shot a quick glance at her face, hoping she hadn’t seen me lusting over her hooters. Miraculously she hadn’t.
  

  Unfortunately, her boyfriend had.
  

  “Hey, what the fuck you looking at?”
  

  Thus is the danger of boobies my friend. You become so transfixed on one solitary point that you completely block off anything that’s happening around you; this unfortunately included large Italian men.
  

  I looked at him for the first time. Eeep. He was a fairly large man. He had one of those collar shirts with eight buttons open so he could reveal his thick black chest hair and gold chain. He was once hairy mother fucker. In fact, his facial hair didn’t even stop at his Adam’s apple. It just connected all the way down to the hair on his chest, like some hairy….path or something. I’m lacking on the metaphors.
  

  “What?” I said as I wiped the remaining drool off my face with the sleeve of my shirt.
  

  “I said what the FUCK you looking at my girlfriend for?”
  

  “I was uh….just…you know…reading her shirt.”
  

  I squinted and pretend to read what it said. I was beginning to feel really drunk at this point.
  

  “Ggggeeese? No wait….Guess. Right. Guess. See? I was just reading.”
  

  Something tells me he wasn’t convinced seeing how he got up, grabbed me by the shirt, and pushed me up against the subway pole.
  

  “Hey, watch it buddy this is a new shirt!” I said. I tried to say it all manly like, but it sounded more like a mouse squealing in terror.
  

  “How about I fuck up your face and your shirt? Would you like that?”
  

  He was “all up in my grill” as the kids say. His breath stunk.
  

  “Well no…oh it was a rhetorical question,” I said.
  

  I thought about what to do. This man wanted to punch me in the face. Was I going to back down? No. Because I was a man damnit! I had too much pride for that. It was time to man-up.
  

  So, I did what any self-respecting man would do if faced with a similar situation:
  

  I faked a seizure.
  

  In a matter of seconds, I become a mess of flailing limbs, bucking torsos, and rolling eyes. I felt the guy let go of me and so I continued to seize into my seat, gyrating like my life depended on it.
  

  “Oh my GOD Bruno what did you do to him?!” I heard the girl say.
  

  “Nothing!! I…I was just trying to scare him!”
  

  I seized for a good ten seconds more before I finally stopped, ending my mini production sprawled across the seat. “What a great idea,” I thought to myself. “Thanks alcohol.”
  

  “Thank God he stopped! Go see if he’s okay Bruno,” she said angrily.
  

  I waited two seconds and felt Bruno’s stinky breath as he leaned over me.
  

  “Dude….you all right?”
  

  Die Bruno.
  

  KA-BLAP.
  

  *Spastic arm to the face*
  

  “OWW MY NOSE!” I heard him scream.
  

  I decided then to wake up, frantically looking around like a small child who lost his mother.
  

  “Wha…wha happened?” I said, pretending I had no idea what happened.
  

  The girl came and sat beside me. I could see the worry in her eyes. It was quite obvious she wanted me.
  

  “You started convulsing or something. We didn’t know what to do.”
  

  “Really? That’s never happened before.”
  

  I pointed to Bruno who was holding his nose with some tissue. “What happened to him?”
  

  “You punched him in the face by accident,” she said.
  

  “Yes….accident…..anyways, this is my stop! Sorry about the nose!”
  

  I stumbled out of the subway and stood there as the doors closed. I could see Bruno staring at me, holding the tissue to his bleeding nose. The train started moving, and I began run along side, shaking uncontrollably like I was some retard trying to dance and laughing and pointing like a hyena.
  

  Bruno=instant angry face.
  

  So remember gentleman: if you are ever in a situation where the boyfriend of a girl whose luscious hooters you were staring at wants to sew your ass to your face, just do what I did:
  

  1)stop
  2)drop
  3)and seize
  

  I should also mention that as I walked home from the subway station, I tripped and fell in some mud, ruining my new shirt. What a bitch that karma is.

  
  

  http://www.ubersite.com/m/41986
  

  • 2:31 pm
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