I'll write about my San Fran mini-road trip in a while, but first I want everyone to know what a fucking pimp I am. Last night in Santa Barbara I hung out with a high school friend, HP (because he's a Huge Pussy-I don't have a deal with Hewlett-Packard.... yet). We had a strange little attraction thing our senior year; the details are irrelevant, but I pretty much got the shit end of that stick. Oh how the tables have turned. First we went and got high on the beach (his weed), and the rest of the night consisted of 1) me getting hit on by or flirting with every guy I met even though it looked like HP and I were on a date, 2) me talking constantly about how I love older men and really want to have good sex, and 3) him getting pouty and jealous. He even told me I have pretty eyes-gag, spoon.
At one food place I had the guy behind the counter running to get me water, and I kept HP waiting while I talked to some Marines that were there. HP challenged me to get a cigarette off of these two gooooorgeous guys walking by, and I totally won. Seriously, they were freaking hot. Soon before I left, HP asked me what I thought of him, and I tried to deflect the question. Eventually I said something about how I just look at him as a friend, and he said, "You can be attracted to friends, though, I mean, I am." No shit, I'm trying not to answer, so let it go, Pussy.
The best part, though, was the cab ride back. We were sitting by the part of the sidewalk where taxis line up-by the bars-and I kept talking about how one cabbie was cute. It was partly to annoy HP (I'm a bitch, sorry, whatever), but I decided I really didn't feel like walking back, so I jumped on that shit. Then the cabbie hit on me like whoa, reduced my fare, and ran out to open the freaking door for me when we reached my stop. Guys on dates
barely do that. He tried to get me to hang around, telling me how I was his last customer of the night and asking my name and shit, but face-to-face I realized he was a little too goofy-looking for me, and heel-to-sneaker a little too short, so I just left.
Guess who I saw tonight when I was back on State Street? More accurately, guess who saw me and stopped to chat? Yeap, and he was riding a bike, which struck me as a little odd.
Unusually, the ho parts were fewer than the pimp parts, but of course they had to happen. On the beach I called out to one British guy "I want you inside of me." He barely flinched (those crazy British), but HP practically fell off his seat laughing. (Keep in mind: weed.) Later, walking back, a carload of guys shouted something at us. I laughed because I thought they were calling HP queer, but no. They weren't. Instead... was this lovely greeting: "Show us your tits!" Charming.
I'm really fucking tired, so if this post was too abrupt, too long, too whatever, I don't give a shit, call my secretary.