cry for me, Argentina.
On a side note, J. Black Hairpiece has requested a second blogalias. When referring to him in a professional manner, he shall be known as Keith Tronic. Don’t ask me where that blogalias comes from, all I know is that he wants a second blogalias. Either that or he is suffering from the same disorder that I acted out in Monday’s post.
Take a gander at this tongue-in-cheek tale that happened last night while a good friend Mollybakes was experiencing an awkward first date. A manifestation of yesterdays post was in full view while I was entertained throughout our Ferris Beuller’s Day Off Anniversary celebration drinking shots of homemade strawberry lemonade stirred up by one, Derby S. Dundee.
Mollybakes’ date was an awkward creature who shall be called SMS Hitchhiker Bicep. I might add that they did drive separately and for a period of 25 minutes or so, SMS Hitchhiker Bicep left the premises for who knows where. Great way to make things confusing and awkward, fine chap. Once he returned, the following conversation occurred while we dished up dessert at the intermission of the film:
Mollybakes: “Do you want some cake Brock?”
Me: “No thanks, I hate cake.” For the record, I can’t stand cake. Unless it’s Better Than Sex Cake, get your Betty Crocker concoction out of my sight.
SMS Hitchhiker Bicep: “You hate cake? So does that mean that you hate rainbows, and butterflies, and puppies and little babies too?”
Blank stare from the remaining six people in the room.
Me: Pondering whether or not to throw a sarcastic forearm-elbow combo to his steroid-stuffed tentacles, or blatantly shout out the chorus to the song “Nugget” by the band “Cake” at him. (Ironic) “No. I am a bad person. I have no compassion at all. Ask my friends.”
The room consciously agreed. Especially you did, Derby S. Dundee.
The point of relaying that story is not to prove how sadistic and cruel that I am to a young Jack Russell terrier playing with a 6-month old infant clothed in pajamas littered in skittle-doused butterflies. It was just a comedic example of two awkward critters going through a first date.
Cut to actual blog.
The theme for this post will be on the subject of lip-dancing, tonsil hockey, making out, or getting to first base. Yes that’s right folks, kissing. The awkward exchange of saliva on doorstep scenes throughout the country. For full effect turn on Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl, and I Liked it.” For a G-rated version, just pop in the soundtrack to The Little Mermaid, and listen to “Kiss the Girl”. That will do the trick.
There will be two guest contributors to today’s post, who for some reason decided that their insight and knowledge would give my blog a fresher look. For this post, and for future posts to come, they shall be known as Howdy-Who Girl, and Jane Awkward.
The following dialogue occurred on the sub-topics of kissing while I silently sat and typed away their feminine wisdom.
On the first kiss:
Jane Awkward: “I think the first kiss has to be the boy. Always. Girls shouldn’t have to do it.”
Howdy-Who Girl: “Yeah, I don’t really follow that. For they guy I’m currently dating, I was the one who initiated it, not him. He was 23, and I kissed him, and he just froze.”
On random places to kiss:
Jane Awkward: “I once kissed a guy in a swimming pool. Not underwater mind you.”
Howdy-Who Girl: “I used to go and kiss a guy at his self-shrine/make out wall”
First of all, who in the world has a make out wall? I would like to meet this man and shake his hand. I would somewhat picture this cement barrier to be something similar to the wall of bodies in 300.
On awkward kissing moments:
Jane Awkward: “I went to kiss a guy once but I don’t know what happened. We kissed once, and I pulled back and said, ‘Sorry, I’m awkward.’ (Hence the blogalias) And then we kissed again, and as he was leaving, I yelled out, “I’ll practice.” It could be on my hand, on my mirror, or on a picture of Leonardo Dicaprio. That’s not what I meant to say to him though.”
Howdy-Who Girl: I have word-vomited too. My first kiss, I turned to the guy and said, “Did you just kiss me? I was 14.”
Thank you for the reference to Mean Girls, and I didn’t know that all girls made out with themselves in the mirror. Interesting…
On covering your tracks:
Howdy-Who Girl: “I lie about kissing all the time. I never tell my parents. One time I made out with a guy on our porch and lied to my Mom about it. Little did I know that my neighbor’s security camera was going to be videotaping our kissing. Which would later be given to my parents. Cue confession session number 1.”
Jane Awkward: “Dang, you lied that much? We should change your blogalias to Slutty-Who Girl.”
Please girls, no fighting.
On how many guys they had kissed:
Jane Awkward: 8
Howdy-Who Girl: 5
On unique analogies or experiences that define their kissing lives:
Jane Awkward: “Kissing, well it’s an acquired taste.”
Howdy-Who Girl: “I have been kiss-raped once when I was 14 and had a broken foot. I would have married the kid. Except for his tongue. He’s adorable. And then he stuck his tongue down my throat.”
For the record, all kisses taste different. And was the tongue-raper the same guy with the kissing wall? What kind of guys are you meeting Howdy-Who Girl?
On kissing advice for the viewers:
Jane Awkward: “A first kiss is always awkward. But you just have to go with it. Every kiss will be awkward regardless.”
Howdy-Who Girl: “Kissing is like baking a cake. You have to try it a few times before you get it perfect.”
Kissing is like cake huh? Well if that’s the case. I’m screwed!