Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Farva is a Douchebag but a Great Wingman...

Occurred-October 2007

I’m like a dog in a lot of ways. When I like someone I tend to kind, friendly, and very approachable. When I don’t like someone I tend to growl (in a metaphorical sense) and have the urge to piss on their leg while taking a dump on their rug. ESPECIALLY when it comes to douches. With the such wastes of life I have to resist the urge of putting them in an arm bar and hearing their jerking off arm going all Rice Krispies (snap, crackle, pop). Some douches I can tolerate, some I wish could aim an x-ray machine at their junk so that they won’t reproduce, and some actually have a use from time to time. Farva was all 3. He might as well have had TOOL tattooed on his forehead as a warning for anyone that had the misfortune of him entering into their existence. He did have a use however.

Here's the story:

I had finished rolling around in jiu jitsu class (sparring, not taking hits of ecstacy)  and stopped by SushiBar to have a beer and a Thrash Roll (tempura shrimp and cream cheese on the outside, wrapped in seaweed and sticky rice, then topped with tuna and avocado. As I walked in I saw Brett working and Farva walking out. I tried to not make eye contact with Farva, because I know doing so would lead to atleast 30 minutes of an onslaught of "him not shutting the fuck up" that would have made King Leonidas think of throwing up a white flag.  Think I am overreacting? Keep reading. This night would actually make it almost tolerable to know that people like this douche bag exist. He sucked THAT much at life. If I were the super religious type, I’d stand on some bench on a street corner proclaiming he was the Anti-Christ holding the T-Virus from Resident Evil (game and movie).


He had a use.

Instead of talking about his worthless attempts at existence (nevermind getting laid), I will talk about the one positive purpose that he could serve and still be part of my collective memory:


How did he manage this?

For as much of douchebag that Farva was he made a really good wingman. He made any guy that hung out with him look like a super hero, or however women would act if they were in Superman’s presence.

Farva came outside and started telling me that he had some women on the way (that he thought he'd have a chance in hell of sex with) with an exuberence similar to that of a 5 year to Disneyland for the first time while not knowing that Mickey Mouse is actually a costume being worn by a migrant worker in hiding from a Mexican drug cartel.  He was that excited about hanging out with actual women in person. When asked if I wanted to stick around:

Frank: “I like girls.”

I went inside and took a seat. I had to withstand Farva’s constant opening of his fucking pie hole on how he thought he didn't suck at life. Finally, the girls showed up and amazingly all of them were hot (soild 9's and 10's). One of them grabbed my attention immediately. She had long black curly hair, tan skin, awesome tits (solid D cup), great face, and had curves that could cause a car wreck and was Sicilian, a VERY big plus. I had a hard on that could have blasted through a brick wall.

I let Farva do all the talking, because honestly trying to get a word in once he gets his trap going is as futile as trying to get the Pope to laugh while watching an episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. He kept going on and on, and I really had no idea what he was saying because I made it a habit of zoning zone out the constant flow desperation and stupidity that came out of his mouth so I wouldn’t lose brain cells. It all sounded like Charlie Brown to me. WAH WAH!!!

Finally Farva’s bladder got him to shut up for a minute as he went to the bathroom. I guess the ladies were completely misreading my silence during the whole Farva led pow-wow.

HotBlonde: “Do you not like us or something?”

Frank: “What makes you say that?”

HotBlonde: “Well, you are bein’ all quiet and stuff.”

Frank:(laying on the sarcasm heavily) “My buddy does the talking usually.”

To their credit they actually got the joke and had a little laugh about it. Maybe this night won’t be a waste of time after all.  I let them do most of the talking (probably one of my smartest moves ever) until HotBlonde called HotSicilian out on having A.D.D. I saw my way in. I started talking to her about adderall and such which is when she laid this line on me.

HotSicilian: “Guys usually don’t hit on me that often.”

She couldn’t have given me a bigger hint if she had dragged me into the bathroom stall, pulled my pants down, and started blowing me right there. She basically laid the gauntlet down right there and I ran with it.

Frank: “Bullshit, you get hit on all the time.”

HotSicilian: “No I don’t, seriously, it’s weird.”

Frank: “You probably just intimidate guys with your looks, most guys are pussies and are intimidated by gorgeous women.”

I couldn’t have put out a bigger hint if I had whipped my dick out and laid it on the table for her and her curious friends to see. The ball was back in her court and she ran to the hoop with it like Derrick Rose on a fast break.

HotSicilian: “I think your friend is talking about going to [WingBar], are you coming too?”

Frank: (nodding approvingly)

As we walked out of SushIBar and headed towards WingBar, HotSicilian started holding my hand. We kept shooting the shit about random things until we walked in the door. As we got in there I started seeing Farva’s confidence drop. I got worried that he was going to have a meltdown that was going to lead to me getting cock blocked and me respond  by fist fucking his face. Apparently he was getting emotional like an 18 year old prostitute whose coke dependant mother dragged her onto national television for a Dr. Phil tongue lashing.

HotBlonde : “What’s wrong with your friend?”

Frank: “He doesn’t get out often and he’s a virgin.”

Yea, that was self-admitted on his part by the way. Why would you tell other people that you were a 25 year old virgin? Why does the IRS exist?  Because there are people that just absolutely suck at life. He actually bragged about taking this somewhat attractive girl out on a date and spening $500 on her and NOT getting laid. ON A FIRST DATE!!! However, he was fulfilling his use perfectly as HotSicilian was all over me like white on rice. We had already begun making out before we even left WingBar. The more Farva sunk himself, the more I looked like Don Juan to HotSicilian. We ended up going to a few more bars where she paid for ALL of my drinks. She was already showing herself to be trophy/mafia wife material. This girl was a winner.

We ended up going back to her place and had really good sex. When she came into SushiBar I thought her tits were fake, but as I was drilling her on her bed they had that natural jiggle that can make grown men cry tears of joy. Let’s look at her credentials so far:

-          D cup tits that looked fake, but were real
-          Had a tight and thick ass
-          Tan skin
-          Great DSL
-          Her vagina wasn’t chewed hamburger
-          She paid for my drinks
-          She was into chemistry (literally and metaphorically)
-          She had a great sense of humor

She was definitely making a great case for herself. And then AMAZINGLY, we started  getting along on an emotional level. UH-OH. I felt that whole "smitten" emotion coming over me and I realized that I was in trouble. This is the same feeling I got with TattooedCougar and ATMgirl. I also knew this is how I knew hilarity (at my expense) was about to happen. Right now I laugh about it, at the time I was shaking like Ray Charles having heroine withdrawals.

 One on end she seemed to have that naughty Catholic school girl look to her which would lead one to think that she is a freak in bed. On the other hand she had this reserved quiet attitude about her that lead me to believe she might be more like a petrified but curious virgin. Obviously, the sex turned out being the latter. I was smitten.


A couple nights later she called me at 4am to come over by her place. At first she understoods that I had to be at work at 8 in the morning and then she texted me saying, “I wanted you to come over, but whatever.” Sensing that she was wanting go Mike Tyson on her G-spot I texted her back with, “I’ll be there in 15.”

16 minutes later……

I walked into her apartment and I noticed a trail of wet foot prints leading from the front door of her apartment to her bedroom. I followed this “clue” to the bedroom where I saw HotSicilian was only wearing a towel which I ripped off her with the subtely 5 car pile up. We had pretty good sex again and that’s when she went:

HotSicilian: “I think I’m going to be getting back together with my boyfriend.”

Frank: “You have a boyfriend?”

HotSicilian: “Yea, we have been on break for awhile.”

She tried to get me to come over again the following night and I turned her down, the DoucheBag Hotel that I was working at scheduled me for 8 in the morning which is like getting a prostate exam with a pine cone. Apparently this pissed her off enough to the point that when I tried calling her to explain why I wasn’t coming over, because even though gingers don’t have souls they still have feelings, I get this response from either:
  1. Her boyfriend that she was talking about
  2. One of her meat sticks on speed dial
Boyfriend/MeatStick: “I’m already fucking her dude.”

Yea, the hotter the girl the more optons she has. Apparently she had her’s on standby. He never did thank me, probably the only thing that irks me about the whole situation. Other than that I can’t really complain, she was a hot girl that I wanted to have sex and I had sex with her. Mission accomplished. And it’s all thanks to a guy who sucks at life. Everyone has a use. Just saying.

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