26 Red Alert

The weekend of my birhday proved to be entertaining at least. I was looking for a roommate, and more found who I'd rather not live with.

My first applicatant -- who just followed up -- was a girl that was the safest from me falling for. She was not unattractive. But I wasn't attracted to her. She comes in with a puppy, expecting a father. But Maury told me this: you are not the father. So I had to pass. I told her on the phone today that a friend showed interest, and that he would probably be moving in. Which isn't entirely untrue.

It's true that a friend of ours wants to move in. He's shown interest. Unfortunatly for him, he's shown us too much of what he's interested in.

The second caller was a girl I'll call Katie, even though I know her only as Katherine, but was actually probably Kathryn. She was a cutie. Checked out the digs and sat on the couch for a Q&A. I think my roommate scared her off, though. She looked like a Katie that he dated. Acted a little like her. It could have been her. Maybe a clone. He freaked her out with his shocking stares. We said she could move in at anytime. That we were ready for her, and that was probably a little creepy. She said she'd call us, and has yet to.

Back to our friend who, drunkenly tells us both on Saturday night that he's a shoe-in. I say, yeah, but what about your girlfriend. She brings mad drama with you. He agrees, but we insist that that might not be the worst thing in the world.

The third and final girl that comes over is named Libby. I liked Libby. My co-interviewer wasn't around though and I had one comment for him: She looks like your sister. Nope, she's out. Hmmm. I guess sometimes it's a good idea not to say those types of things.

Meanwhile, my drinking friend and potential third roommate is suggesting we go to Union Jacks, one of Portland's many strip clubs. And if it wasn't for the Beam, if it wasn't for the girls that also wanted to go, if I hadn't been at the Matador right before, I might have argued that this wasn't a good idea. But we went.

I saw a naked girl for the second time in as many weeks. Happy Birthday to me. Skinny ones, tatooed ones, tall ones, small titted ones, hot ones, ones I feared carried diseases I don't want, and, finally fire breathing ones.

This one stripper ate fire. She blew fire. She lit herself on fire, and as her finally she tried to light the strip club on fire. It worked. The place didn't burn down, but it caught. The fire eating stripper caught the smoke eating machine on the ceiling on fire and I thought we were going to die. I had my birthday scarf over my breathing holes. I was scared though. I didn't want to leave. I hopped there would be a free lap dance out of this. I was wrong. I did see another show, though. I saw my drunken, potential, now off the list roommate make out with a girl I assumed would marry me. I was wrong.

The attraction for a girl pretty much disappears when you see her making out with a drunken friend at a strip club. You friend pretty much loses his chances of moving in with you when he does such things.

That, and too many babies are having babies. Too many babies having grandbabies. JD. No, JB.


Askinstoo said...
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losing my caffeine high said...

So, you COULD say that I saved your life. Your lungs are clear and free of smoke - for the most part. Cheers for birthdays. Cheers for winners. Cheers for friends.

Crazy sheep running said...

Sheep says:
1. The dude that made out with the girl you like is lame

2. I've been telling you about jack for months and yet you talk about beam in your blog. Do you really want to hurt me?

3. Libby will call.

Jed said...

Obi-Wan is proposing a truce with the DNA experiment and will testify to Sheep's declaration that JD is the place to be. Tonight, the very libation fueled a Veteran's Day party of nearly epic proportions, in which we burned photos of unpopular and federally indicted political figures, a copy of the Declaration of Independence, the Mormon Bible, various dead alder branches and also a couch. I love the smell of burning pressure treated lumber in the morning!

Crazy sheep running said...

Sheep says:

1. Calling Sheep a DNA experiment while calling a truce is a bit back handed

2. That said, your agreement on JD makes us good

3. Why did you change your handle Jedi-jedididihah? That reminds me of Chakka kahn

4. Sheep senses that carsonation and jed know each other well and have spent many years together.

5. Jed should ask Sheep a question about himself. Sheep is all-knowing and, as such, knows everything about Jed and Carsonation

6. Try me.

Jed said...

1. What did I have for dinner tonight?

a) Walrus

b) Moose

c) Not delivery, but DiGorno

d) salmon

2. If I were a firearm, what caliber would I be?

3. True or False? I dropped acid AFTER an Alman Brothers concert in Boston and was definistrated the following evening for cracking an off-color joke to my cousin's best friend's girlfriend.

4. What did I score on my SAT the first and only time I took it, and what was my excuse to my parents? (you get a 50 point buffer)

Get 1 right and you have a pulse
2 out of four and the scientists are on the right track
3 right and you have my blessing to continue posting on this site
All four correct and I will relinquish the title to this intergallactic rap battle.

May the Force be with you.

Crazy sheep running said...

1. Salmon (that was too easy)

2. Completely subjectively, I'd say something skinny like a .223

3. True to both questions (yes to the acid and yes to the definswhatever). Not certain if you deserved it though - she wasn't the kind of woman who commanded respect from men. I get 2 pts credit for this one

4. I have no freakin idea, but I'll guess 950. I don't know your excuse but I'm sure it was creative

Jed said...

Uno--Ignorance is forgivable. I'm actually docking you one point for your arrogance. The correct answer was b) moose, hunted at a classified location 23 miles north of where I live, precicesly two months ago, the weekend before the season closed. But you can redeem yourself by boycotting farmed salmon and asking your waiter or seafood counter clerk only for wild Alaska salmon.

I'll give you half-credit for number 2. You got the skinny part right, but you are forgetting how high-powered I am. A more acceptable answer would have been a Springfield .30-06.

--current score at halftime: negative one-half

Third quarter: Perhaps my public admission to this question will further disqualify me from any manditory service in the military. Well well, apparently I underestimated you, my fleece-yielding friend. Two points indeed. However, I should dock you a point for not calling me out on my Allman Brothers typo. But I won't this time. After all, this isn't the spelling bee.

Numero quattro: Hmmm. I'm afraid I can't give it to you. But thanks for trying.

Final score: 1.5 out of a possible 4. I'm pretty sure they'd shoot you for that in China.


P.S. Kit, 86 the spam dude. They're getting their message out at your expense.

Crazy sheep running said...

Jedediah -

I'll admit that I didn't do that well on your test. You asked some pretty specific stuff though. And it was intentionally misleading. For example, you rail on about saving the wilderness from the oil company and other envirnonmental nonsense and then you shoot a moose - an animal that is one notch up from the manatee intellectually. You also picked topics that I simply can't know - your SAT scores and some Allman Brothers episode - and then mock me for it. Pretty hollow form of superiority. No more games. Here's what I think I know:
-your SAT score didn't influence where you went to college. I'll go out on a limb and guess that it was closer to the bowling league than the ivy league
-you were a sickly child with lots of colds and ear infections
-pets were forbidden
-you moved to Alaska because there are fewer people there and we all know you dislike people, especially undocumented aliens
-you probably had a girlfriend. I bet she was hot. Recently, you've been trying to figure out how you lost her since you realized that your chances of replacing her are close to zero
-read your Hemmingway a bit closer. The cartridge is actually a 30-06 Springfield, not the reverse. If pets were forbidden, guns were undoubtedly doubly forgiven, so I'll forgive you for being a novice shooter (assuming you actually shot the moose yourself and it wasn't your ex-girlfriend who shot the moose and then gave you some)

Looks like I deserve full credit after all.

Jed said...
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