Oh, the joys of having a tall friend who doesn't mind telling ridiculous stories on herself. I went to see my friend Raven yesterday, who's a beautiful, buxom, 6-foot-tall blonde, newly single with a new boyfriend.
"I went to see Jim yesterday," she said. "He's just so sweet."
"Oh?" I guess this is why she doesn't call me anymore. Hmph.
"Yes. I'd only been at his house a few minutes when he told me how pretty and sexy I looked."
"Aw," I said, completely hiding my total annoyance. It's been awhile since I felt sexy or pretty. "Isn't that sweet?" I gave the obligatory grin. If I thought about it long enough, I could learn to hate this woman.
"Yeah. But you'll never guess what happened," she replied.
"Oh, do tell," I gushed eagerly. Not.
"Well, when he told me I was lookin' all sexy and everything, I started doing this little pole-dance kinda thing."
As she told me the story, Raven began gyrating around the room with her little finger poised provocatively at the corner of her mouth, a sly grin on her face, and a come-hither look in her eye.
"I was dancing like this, see?"
"Mm-hm." God help me.
"And I was all, 'Oh? You think this is sexy? Well, you want somma this?'" She ran her hand down her leg to her ankle.
"And you want somma that?" She ran her hand up her side, teasingly stroking her annoyingly perfect bosom.
"Hmm." Cough.
"And then I started pulling my shirt off over my head like this? And just when I got my shirt off and my hands were up in the air, there's this, 'Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack!' I got my hands caught in the ceiling fan and I couldn't get 'em down 'cause they were all tangled up in my shirt."
Raven's little underarms flapped like flags in the breeze as she demonstrated.
HAR!!!
Oh, Raven. How can ANYBODY not love you! You are a crack up, honey.
Oh, by the way. I'm glad you're not hurt. Really, I am.
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