Who smooched the model?

Well a few weeks ago, some of Brosa’s friends from Houston come down for the Colorado game.  They scored us some sweet seats, so we were glad to see them.  I will completely skip over Friday night because that needs to be forgotten.  It was certainly a… ummm… well, a spectacle. 

So, Saturday morning, we hopped out of bed (turned our swag on) and went to Hula Hut.  We recapped the night pretty well and had lots of laughs at my expense.  I made quite the favorable (maybe?) impression on David when he walked into the apartment after meeting me and found me biding my time on Urban Dictionary.  He asked what I was doing, and I told him I was looking up “stuntin.”  He asked why.  I said, “Well, I know it’s a habit.”  Thus, all weekend long we had urban vocabulary quizzes to test my knowledge.  I was definitely up-to-date.  Some might even say I have “street cred” when it comes to things like that.   

Nonetheless, we’re sitting at Hula Hut and the rest of the group joins us.  With them, is a guy wearing Ed Hardy.  Seriously, it’s nearly 2010.  Did he not get the memo?  Or is he just a douchebag?  It turns out, his douchebag status was confirmed the next weekend (a story for a different blog).  At any rate, he sat next to me, which was kind of embarrassing.  I am a d-bag magnet.  I have been my WHOLE life.  If there is a d-bag within a thirty mile radius, he will find me, sit next to me, and make inappropriate comments.  Maybe it’s my perfume or maybe it’s my sassy haircut, but d-bags LOVE me. 

Douche Bag ended up being very useful when our waiter showed up.  Turns out, the waiter was the most beautiful man alive.  Honestly.  He brought our chips and even the douchebag says, “He’s hot.”  I concurred.  Then, the beautiful man made a mistake.  He spoke to me.  It was terrible.  He asked if I wanted a drink, and I could not form an articulate sentence to save my life.  My face turned red and Brosa ordered me a Corona Light FTW.  The guys, noticing this continuously awkward exchange between the beautiful man and myself, decided to do me a favor and put the ball on the tee for me.  After lunch, they invited him to the Colorado game and gave him a free ticket.  That might sound like a win… but it wasn’t… and let me tell you why…

In true H-town style, we rode to the game in Adam’s fresh Cadillac with underground blasting on the speakers.  I haven’t rode like a G since high school, so Brosa and I scooted down in our seats so we wouldn’t be seen.  Adam, DoucheBag, and David give me vocabulary quizzes on rap vernacular, and I passed with flying colors.

So we’re tailgating and waiting for the Beautiful Man to show up.  Brosa has a belly full of quesadillas and rum, and I’m steadily feeding her the remainder of my drink.  Let’s just say, she was done.  About half an hour before the game, the Beautiful Man rocks up dressed like he’s ready for a gay disco.  Deal breaker.  Despite my panicked glances at the rest of the crew, they thought it would be equally hilarious to make me sit next to him at the game.  This does not please me.  I know exactly what’s going to happen… and it does.

He became the most obnoxious football watcher ever.  He didn’t know the game, and he wouldn’t stop talking.  He wanted to talk about California… his ex-girlfriend… his modeling career… the TV show he was on… and he was asking me relationship questions.  I swear that happened.  I typically wouldn’t mind a unique conversation about someone’s modeling career or the various reality shows for which they have competed and won, but I do not want to talk about it during the game.  I hate to be harsh (just playin), but he became the epitome of “Looks aren’t everything.”  So, at some point, I switch spots with drunk Brosa and make her sit next to him.  In her altered state, she doesn’t understand that I don’t want to sit next to him, and thinks that she intruded on the love connection.  For the remainder of the game, she tried to sneakily sit on the other side of me so I can sit next to the model. 

The guys, continuing on their streak of doing things just to annoy me, invited him downtown that night.  I decided to stay in.  The story goes… everyone drank too much that night, he gave one of my friends a lap dance, and they made out.  We make fun of her nearly daily for that.

I am really late for work right now... but I'll give 10 points to whoever can guess which of my friends smooched the model.