Thursday, August 10, 2006

Easy Like Sunday Mornin'

Yesterday someone invited me out to a tapas bar and I thought they said topless bar.

This Freudian error brought me around to the following thought:

Am I a hu-or? Well, this comes up because a work acquaintance of mine always comes over to share his lurid tales of getting tail. Minutes fly by as he details goals, strategies, etc.... At least I've stopped him from giving me the blow by blow (pun completely intended).
Now there is another young lady our age in the office, and he talks to her about baseball, not his balls and various orifices, but baseball, not bases to which he gets on ludicrously trashy bar chicks, but regular old baseball.
Why, I ask you, do I have to hear about him sliding into home and she only has to hear about last night's game?
I think he is trying to talk shop, she appears to like baseball and apparently I appear to like teabagging.
So now I have to ask myself, "Do I come off as a slut?" Because I'm not a slut-- worse yet, I fear I'm a prude. Lo, it has been many days since a man has been around. My bed is completely unchristened, so why do I have this unfortunate image?

I have no idea.

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