Don't Try This at Home!
With my 22nd birthday coming up, I've been reminiscing about my birthday celebrations of last year...err...or, what I can remember of them. Ever tried Absinth...after already being a *little* tipsy? *ahem* ...ANYWAYS, last year the theme was Sex and the City. Which coincidentally it turned out that Chris Noth *swoon* was in town for a Sex and the City event at Sky bar that same night. However, instead of going there, DD, Natty, and Miss King and I went to a local "pub" all Sex and the Citified in high heels and skirts.
I spent most of the night in a comfy chair with some random guy's jacket over my head (it helped with the spinning in my head), while DD chatted it up with an air traffic controller dude who apparently owned a crotch-rocket. So by 1:00 am it was time for us to head back home. Mr. Crotch Rocket asked for DD's number. She [EDIT] liked him and from what I can remeber he was pretty damn hot too.
Turns out the Mr. Crotch rocket decided for whatever reason not to call DD. *SIDE NOTE * To all the single men: Why would you ask for a girls number and never call her? huh? However, I guess Mr. Crotch Rocket had revealed the general location of where he lived and a couple of weeks later DD mentioned that she had seen a blue (his was blue) crotch-rocket around that area. I'm usually a very sweet *cough*, well mannered *cough-cough*, Pollyanna type but I was feeling particularly devious that night and suggested we go toilet paper it. DD was up for it, so we got on our black clothing (oddly this was not the first time we'd set out in the night dressed all in black), but before we left on our TP mission, I thought of a WAY better idea. Instead, wouldn't it be more "interesting" if we left a note for him? DD agreed, so I scribbled something on an old receipt and we scampered off into the darkness.
For some reason I was delegated as the official "placer of the note on the crotch rocket" . When we reached the C-R, I planted the note. It read:
Nice crotch rocket.
Can I go for a ride?
Give me a call ### - ####.
Part of me thought that he would never call and an even bigger part of me hoped that the rain would wash away the writing on the paper. But, if that were true I probably would not be telling you this story, would I?
The next day I checked my Caller ID and sure enough there was a "mystery number", but no message. DD convinced me to call it, so I did. Luckily it went to his voice-mail, but it was not Mr. Crotch Rocket's voice mail, but some guy named Dave. I hung up the phone, but two seconds later it rang again. It was Dave. We did the whole "did you just call?" thing and then he asked, "is this Jane?". I immediately removed the phone from my ear, covered the receiver with my left hand and mouthed to DD frantically, “IT'S THE CROTCH ROCKET GUY!” She motioned for me to keep talking to him. I immediately apologized and explained what happened. He thought it was extremely funny and invited both of us out for drinks.
What a great story this would be if we actually ended up together, but alas, it turns out he wasn't my type or DD's or A-M's (my other roommate at the time who came with us)...and I never did get a ride on that crotch-rocket. I wonder what I'll do for my birthday this year?