The American Bachelor (284 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.2 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by swine_powered_sock_monkey (View user info) at 2006-10-16 17:32:46 EDT
I sit and stare at my phone, almost begging it to answer the question for me. It's Friday afternoon, paycheck is in the bank and I am a free man until Monday morning. But the question remains. I stare at the phone, and it stares back at me, and the lack of wisdom it displays on the little screen is appalling. The signal meter drops from three bars to two, then back to three, almost as if it were smirking at me in my moment of absolute indecisiveness.
"GRRRRR!!!" I grr, as I throw the little machine across the room.
"BRRRRIIINGGG!!!" It brings, as it sails through the air, and lands squarely in a bowl of cat food, sending hard little pieces of feline sustenance flying in all directions.
It did that on purpose, spiteful device that it is. I pick up the phone and answer.
"Meh?" I say. People dig my mastery of the language.
"Hey! How are you? It's been awhile since I've heard from you so I figured I'd call and see what was up in your world." It was Amy, the delicious redhead that works down the block.
"Hi. Fine. Not much." I answer, wooing her with my disinterest. Chicks love that.
"So, uh, I was thinking..." she says. This ought to be rich. "My roommate is out of town until Monday, and I was wondering if you might like to come have a drink with me sometime this weekend. If you're not busy, that is."
"Uh, sure." The little man in my head is screaming at me to stop talking, but I don't listen. "Let me see what I've got going on and I'll call you back so we can set something up."
"Cool. Just let me know, babe. I'm up for whatever. Talk to you later. Muah!" She hangs up, and I wallow in torment. My situation just got more difficult by a factor of, well, let's just say it's worse than it was, and leave the math to the people that care about that sort of thing.
Just what I needed. Another possible answer to the question that I still had yet to answer. Who do I want to go out with this weekend? Jess, the blonde bombshell of a grad student, Natalie, the brunette retail clerk with the exceptional rack, or Amy, the redhead of aforementioned deliciousness that works near my office? Questions such as this boggle the bachelor mind. A year ago, as a married man, the most pressing questions facing my weekend would have involved the in-laws, the mortgage, the dog, or something silly in regards to Bed, Bath and Beyond. Certainly not this.
I sit and stare at my phone, resisting the urge to bind and torture the little silver and black abomination that got me into this mess. If I could only resist the urge to answer it, the biggest dilemma of my weekend may well have been choosing what flavor of Hamburger Helper defines my Saturday night. But of course, that's not much fun. Especially for me, since my opinion of Hamburger Helper is that it doesn't help at all, unless you consider adding color and texture to my alcohol-laden vomit a helpful thing.
This is absurd. "It's the twenty-first century for crying out loud!" I cry, out loud. "I'm an American! Shouldn't we have some marvel of modern technology to tell us what we should do in moments such as this? It's the American way!"
"Eureka!" I exclaimed, since "exclaimed" is a much better word than "shouted".
I am an American! I took a moment to gather my composure and muster all the stereotypical bull-headed ignorance I could summon forth from my being. What's more American than not making a decision and leaving someone else to clean up the mess? The solution to my problem lies in doing what Americans do best. Whatever we want. And I want it all.
I made a few calls, and within minutes I had a full agenda and no worries. Friday night was Red, Saturday was Blonde, and Sunday was Brunette. I was all set.
I triumphantly leapt into the shower and cleansed myself to the music of my own personal rendition of "We built this city on rock-n-roll". Then I tore madly through my wardrobe in preparation for a weekend that lives only in the dreams of married men, or in a library belonging to a connoisseur of fine pornographic arts. I was a man with a plan.
And what a plan it was. But first, I needed a beer. Can't have a plan without beer. It's the American way, after all.
User Reviews
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-10-17 12:31:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought I rated this before.
Submitted by Happily_Agnostic (user info) at 2006-10-17 08:53:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
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Submitted by YellowDragon (user info) at 2006-10-17 04:48:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"The solution to my problem lies in doing what Americans do best. Whatever we want. And I want it all." <---- Hell yeah!
This was actually very entertaining. Thank you.
Submitted by swine_powered_hate_machine (user info) at 2006-10-16 20:12:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I can't believe I ate the whole thing.
-- Homer Simpson
The Front
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-10-16 18:13:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Shenanigans, it was really Hector, Vince, and Peter you went out with, admit it
Submitted by DrSeussman (user info) at 2006-10-16 17:58:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Except THIS Natalie, the brunette retail clerk with the exceptional rack, should have been Friday in case the sex was exceptional.