The trip has come to an end, but The Ski Patrol is still hard at work... to catch the action, jump over to theskipatrol.blogspot.com
See ya out there,
The Ski Patrol
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Par For the Course:
*Update: As I mentioned below, I was a loser, and gave Ariana my contact info when she asked for it. Yesterday she sent me a Facebook friend request. I accepted. Profile stalking reveals that the brat claims her religion as 'Church of Latter Day Saints'. So she's a fucking mormon after all. Gross. Here's her photo(she's on the right), so you can see what this gypsy looks like:
Other than the mountains, and Moab, everything about this state is stupid. The beer is like sex in a canoe - close to water. You can’t order a real cocktail - have you ever tried an extra dirty martini made with only 1 ounce of vodka in it(the limit per drink)?! Furthermore, the Governor’s newest appointee to the 5-person state liquor board is a non-drinker. Huh? Don’t even get me started on the goddamn Mormons.
Why am I especially bitter at this moment? Well, I was just shut down by a chick named Arianna who would have, in a normal state, been tickling her tonsils with my water weasel this very second. But nooooooooooooooooo. We’re in Utah, Toto. I just spent an hour talking to this girl… CLOSE talking. Which she initiated. She even SANG for me… and damn she has a sultry, sexy voice. Then, after her shower, she walked over to my campsite so I could look at her flippin sketchbook. Turns out she’s a great artist too.
Okay, sorry. I know I’m throwing a ton of random stuff at you. I'm kicking game at a singing virgin artist in a Utah campground? What? So, to preface:
I’ve been in Provo, UT the past few days to deal with some mechanical issues on the bike, and as the thing is still under warranty from Trek, the shit is replaced/repaired for free. But the only dealer in western Utah is Provo. So here I am. Anyway, it turns out the state park here is right on lake Utah, and is gorgeous, so that’s where I’ve been camping. The second day I’m here, some people my age pull up in a van – turns out they work for this outdoor program called Aspiro. Basically, it’s an Outward Bound/Overland kind of thing. Anyway, it’s mostly dudes, except for a couple girls who, aside from Arianna, are the typical mangy, unshaven, granola types. Arianna and I end up talking right away – I’m charmed by her personality, and immediately attracted to her gorgeous eyes and smile, and that she’s got curves right where they’re supposed to be. Better yet, she seems to be digging me. I also observe that, even though she had woken up on the frosty ground in a sleeping bag 30 minutes prior, she already had mascara and makeup on(only noticeable because the rest of us looked like we had been run over by a tractor). Is this chick for real?
So, over the next couple days, I see her briefly, and we chat a couple times in passing, and she gives me the sexy smile. But this being a campground in Utah where she’s surrounded by dudes, I’m not expecting anything. Then, this morning, I perform the camping equivalent of bringing a girl flowers: Arianna has a small rip in the bottom of her sleeping bag, and I give her my sewing kit to fix it. And not just any sewing kit – this one was from the Four Seasons. She thanks me profusely, and we go our separate ways for the day.
Fast-forward to about an hour and a half ago:
I had just walked out of the shower, and am carrying an armful of shit – the clothes I just changed out of, a soaking wet shirt/socks/cycling shorts(even if you can’t wash em, gotta rinse em), and my bag of toiletries. And suddenly, out of the darkness, there’s Arianna. “Hi!” She says. I want to say, “What’s up girlie? How ‘bout you turn around and get your fine little ass out of those clothes, and into my tent?” But we’re in Utah, so I have been trying to turn down my foul mouth/crass behavior a few notches. Mostly unsuccessfully. So I say hey, and we start talking. Then, because I have an armload of shit, I start dropping things. She says, “Whoa, settle down. I don’t make you nervous, do I?”, and then flashes me that sparkly smile. Now she’s flirting… amazing. I laugh, we go back and forth some more, and end up talking about everything… standing right there in front of the shower building. As we’re laughing, she keeps inching closer, and I’m thinking, “No way… I'm getting a sick makeout with a rando hot outdoorsy chick in a Utah campground… this is AMAZING.” Then, we cover that she is a singer… like, actually gets paid to sing on albums and whatnot. She says, “Want me to sing for you?” Hell YES. So she sings some soul, and my penis begins to tingle. She then offers to sing me a lullaby after her shower. Game, set, point.
But don’t get too excited yet… in the course of the conversation after the singing, we cover that she is not a mormon - but she does not drink(more disturbing, she says she thinks champagne is gross, which is an almost immediate deal-breaker for The Ski Patrol), does not watch TV, doesn’t watch movies, and doesn’t own a computer. I then say, “But you’ve seen ‘Wedding Crashers’, right?” No. Has this chick been living on Mars?! I brokenheartedly realize that my typical humor repertoire has suddenly been pretty much diced in half. Damn. The ship hasn’t sunk yet though, and I quip, “So is this about the time when you’re going to tell me you’re a virgin?”
That’s an affirmative, captain. I think I want my sewing kit back.
Being an incurable jackass, I say, “Seriously? You don’t mean, like, you found Jesus and decided to let it grow back?” She didn’t seem to get the sarcasm. I decided not to ask if, like so many Mormon/”religious” broads I’ve heard about, she instead does anal to ensure vaginal integrity. We’ve clearly reached the apex of this conversation – you know that moment when the conversation is a delicately sputtering flame – turn up the wick, or it’s gone in a wisp of smoke. Amid all this, she’s moved to the point where she’s standing 8 inches from me – close. She’s looking up at me with those eyes… we reach that quiet point in the interaction when a kiss, on this gorgeous starry night on this lake surrounded by mountains, is the natural course of events. Anticipating this, I had previously shifted all the junk I’m holding to my left arm. With my right, I place my hand on her waist, not pulling, but simply the gesture of offering that path to step into the inevitable. Nothing. She looks down. God, I fucking hate virgins. This is worse than 8th grade.
But, like the numbered comment so often selected on my 8th grade report cards, I'm known to 'persevere when challenged'. Oddly, she’s not letting the ship go down. Rather than rushing off to her shower, and bidding me goodnight, she keeps talking. By this point, as sexy as she is, I’m losing interest. I’m simply not interested in chaperoning the baby-steps of a 23 year old virgin. Justify it however you want, but anybody who walls off that most basic human pleasure posses a brand of insecurity I find profoundly unattractive.
At this point, I notice how cold it is, and knowing there will certainly be no smashing, or even making out tonight, I’m ready to get into my tent and pass out. So I say, “Listen, I should let you shower, but it was great talking to you…” She won’t let it go though and replies, “Well, I’ll be about 15 minutes – if you’re up, I’ll come show you my sketchbook.” Okay, virgin, I’ll give you one more shot. So I head back to my campsite, and sit down at the picnic table to upload some photos to the laptop. About 20 minutes later, here she comes, and sits down next to me. Turns out the girl is an amazing artist. I’m legitimately impressed, which is sort of cool. But mostly, I’m imagining what it’d be like if she put her mind to the art of intercourse. Whoa.
After the sketchbook, I show her a few of my fantastic photos, but it is midnight, cold, and definitely time for bed. At this point, the most I am anticipating is a goodnight kiss… So we start the ritual of saying goodnight, and she kind of leans towards me(she is sitting directly to my left), and this time, fuck it, I’m diving in. She impresses me once again – but this time, it’s her ability to dodge into a buddy-buddy one-armed hug without a hint of awkwardness. She’s definitely done this before, but she did it so deftly, I almost couldn’t be annoyed. Almost. Stupid virgins. I wanted to say, “Listen sweetheart, it’s cool that you’re a great artist… but it’s cold, I’m tired, and as much as I like talking to you, I think my motives are crystal-fucking-clear.” We’re in Utah though, so I pussy out and don’t say that. She tells me how great it was meeting me. Yeah Arianna, great to meet you too - thanks for reinforcing how unbelievably lame this state is.
Over and out,
The Ski Patrol
*End Note: This morning I’m officially on my way out of Utah, but as I was leaving the campground, Arianna got up from her breakfast, and came over to say goodbye. She also asked for my contact info. Snidely, I asked this teetotaling, non TV watching virgin if she’s familiar with email. Never shying from direct eye contact, she gives me that sexy smile, and says yes. Yeah, I’m a loser and gave her my info. Ugh, virgins.
Other than the mountains, and Moab, everything about this state is stupid. The beer is like sex in a canoe - close to water. You can’t order a real cocktail - have you ever tried an extra dirty martini made with only 1 ounce of vodka in it(the limit per drink)?! Furthermore, the Governor’s newest appointee to the 5-person state liquor board is a non-drinker. Huh? Don’t even get me started on the goddamn Mormons.Why am I especially bitter at this moment? Well, I was just shut down by a chick named Arianna who would have, in a normal state, been tickling her tonsils with my water weasel this very second. But nooooooooooooooooo. We’re in Utah, Toto. I just spent an hour talking to this girl… CLOSE talking. Which she initiated. She even SANG for me… and damn she has a sultry, sexy voice. Then, after her shower, she walked over to my campsite so I could look at her flippin sketchbook. Turns out she’s a great artist too.
Okay, sorry. I know I’m throwing a ton of random stuff at you. I'm kicking game at a singing virgin artist in a Utah campground? What? So, to preface:
I’ve been in Provo, UT the past few days to deal with some mechanical issues on the bike, and as the thing is still under warranty from Trek, the shit is replaced/repaired for free. But the only dealer in western Utah is Provo. So here I am. Anyway, it turns out the state park here is right on lake Utah, and is gorgeous, so that’s where I’ve been camping. The second day I’m here, some people my age pull up in a van – turns out they work for this outdoor program called Aspiro. Basically, it’s an Outward Bound/Overland kind of thing. Anyway, it’s mostly dudes, except for a couple girls who, aside from Arianna, are the typical mangy, unshaven, granola types. Arianna and I end up talking right away – I’m charmed by her personality, and immediately attracted to her gorgeous eyes and smile, and that she’s got curves right where they’re supposed to be. Better yet, she seems to be digging me. I also observe that, even though she had woken up on the frosty ground in a sleeping bag 30 minutes prior, she already had mascara and makeup on(only noticeable because the rest of us looked like we had been run over by a tractor). Is this chick for real?
So, over the next couple days, I see her briefly, and we chat a couple times in passing, and she gives me the sexy smile. But this being a campground in Utah where she’s surrounded by dudes, I’m not expecting anything. Then, this morning, I perform the camping equivalent of bringing a girl flowers: Arianna has a small rip in the bottom of her sleeping bag, and I give her my sewing kit to fix it. And not just any sewing kit – this one was from the Four Seasons. She thanks me profusely, and we go our separate ways for the day.
Fast-forward to about an hour and a half ago:
I had just walked out of the shower, and am carrying an armful of shit – the clothes I just changed out of, a soaking wet shirt/socks/cycling shorts(even if you can’t wash em, gotta rinse em), and my bag of toiletries. And suddenly, out of the darkness, there’s Arianna. “Hi!” She says. I want to say, “What’s up girlie? How ‘bout you turn around and get your fine little ass out of those clothes, and into my tent?” But we’re in Utah, so I have been trying to turn down my foul mouth/crass behavior a few notches. Mostly unsuccessfully. So I say hey, and we start talking. Then, because I have an armload of shit, I start dropping things. She says, “Whoa, settle down. I don’t make you nervous, do I?”, and then flashes me that sparkly smile. Now she’s flirting… amazing. I laugh, we go back and forth some more, and end up talking about everything… standing right there in front of the shower building. As we’re laughing, she keeps inching closer, and I’m thinking, “No way… I'm getting a sick makeout with a rando hot outdoorsy chick in a Utah campground… this is AMAZING.” Then, we cover that she is a singer… like, actually gets paid to sing on albums and whatnot. She says, “Want me to sing for you?” Hell YES. So she sings some soul, and my penis begins to tingle. She then offers to sing me a lullaby after her shower. Game, set, point.
But don’t get too excited yet… in the course of the conversation after the singing, we cover that she is not a mormon - but she does not drink(more disturbing, she says she thinks champagne is gross, which is an almost immediate deal-breaker for The Ski Patrol), does not watch TV, doesn’t watch movies, and doesn’t own a computer. I then say, “But you’ve seen ‘Wedding Crashers’, right?” No. Has this chick been living on Mars?! I brokenheartedly realize that my typical humor repertoire has suddenly been pretty much diced in half. Damn. The ship hasn’t sunk yet though, and I quip, “So is this about the time when you’re going to tell me you’re a virgin?”
That’s an affirmative, captain. I think I want my sewing kit back.
Being an incurable jackass, I say, “Seriously? You don’t mean, like, you found Jesus and decided to let it grow back?” She didn’t seem to get the sarcasm. I decided not to ask if, like so many Mormon/”religious” broads I’ve heard about, she instead does anal to ensure vaginal integrity. We’ve clearly reached the apex of this conversation – you know that moment when the conversation is a delicately sputtering flame – turn up the wick, or it’s gone in a wisp of smoke. Amid all this, she’s moved to the point where she’s standing 8 inches from me – close. She’s looking up at me with those eyes… we reach that quiet point in the interaction when a kiss, on this gorgeous starry night on this lake surrounded by mountains, is the natural course of events. Anticipating this, I had previously shifted all the junk I’m holding to my left arm. With my right, I place my hand on her waist, not pulling, but simply the gesture of offering that path to step into the inevitable. Nothing. She looks down. God, I fucking hate virgins. This is worse than 8th grade.
But, like the numbered comment so often selected on my 8th grade report cards, I'm known to 'persevere when challenged'. Oddly, she’s not letting the ship go down. Rather than rushing off to her shower, and bidding me goodnight, she keeps talking. By this point, as sexy as she is, I’m losing interest. I’m simply not interested in chaperoning the baby-steps of a 23 year old virgin. Justify it however you want, but anybody who walls off that most basic human pleasure posses a brand of insecurity I find profoundly unattractive.
At this point, I notice how cold it is, and knowing there will certainly be no smashing, or even making out tonight, I’m ready to get into my tent and pass out. So I say, “Listen, I should let you shower, but it was great talking to you…” She won’t let it go though and replies, “Well, I’ll be about 15 minutes – if you’re up, I’ll come show you my sketchbook.” Okay, virgin, I’ll give you one more shot. So I head back to my campsite, and sit down at the picnic table to upload some photos to the laptop. About 20 minutes later, here she comes, and sits down next to me. Turns out the girl is an amazing artist. I’m legitimately impressed, which is sort of cool. But mostly, I’m imagining what it’d be like if she put her mind to the art of intercourse. Whoa.
After the sketchbook, I show her a few of my fantastic photos, but it is midnight, cold, and definitely time for bed. At this point, the most I am anticipating is a goodnight kiss… So we start the ritual of saying goodnight, and she kind of leans towards me(she is sitting directly to my left), and this time, fuck it, I’m diving in. She impresses me once again – but this time, it’s her ability to dodge into a buddy-buddy one-armed hug without a hint of awkwardness. She’s definitely done this before, but she did it so deftly, I almost couldn’t be annoyed. Almost. Stupid virgins. I wanted to say, “Listen sweetheart, it’s cool that you’re a great artist… but it’s cold, I’m tired, and as much as I like talking to you, I think my motives are crystal-fucking-clear.” We’re in Utah though, so I pussy out and don’t say that. She tells me how great it was meeting me. Yeah Arianna, great to meet you too - thanks for reinforcing how unbelievably lame this state is.
Over and out,
The Ski Patrol
*End Note: This morning I’m officially on my way out of Utah, but as I was leaving the campground, Arianna got up from her breakfast, and came over to say goodbye. She also asked for my contact info. Snidely, I asked this teetotaling, non TV watching virgin if she’s familiar with email. Never shying from direct eye contact, she gives me that sexy smile, and says yes. Yeah, I’m a loser and gave her my info. Ugh, virgins.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Out of sight, out of mind...
If you want to get right down to it, science shows us that absence does not, in fact, make the heart grow fonder. It's nothing personal, it's just brain chemistry. That said, when I left on this trip, the chicas in the picture all pretty much expressed(with the exception of one brat) enthusiasm for my voyage... after all, I'm getting to live a dream I've had for years. Who wouldn't be completely pumped for me? Even so, one particular chica whom we'll call "Spanky" didn't seem to consider that my adventure might often combine extreme physical exertion with logistical challenges(mountains blocking cell signals, different time zones, or camping in places with no electricity supply) which might impede my ability to be in constant communication. She's not so much stupid, as exceptionally narrow minded - but not in the selfish or malicious sense - more that her brain just doesn't seem to process the broad spectrum of practical calculations a normal person does. But she is blonde, cute, and a total sex machine, so instead of berating her for being a ditz, I just drown out her doltish behavior with the sweet sound of multiple orgasms. And I quote, "Omg, you're the only guy who's ever given me an internal orgasm... I didn't know I could cum like that!" Merry Christmas, Spanky.
Oh, and she also sends me naked photos(yep, that's her), and makes phone sex fun. What guy doesn't love that?
So, backing up... where does Spanky enter all this, and why am bothering to write about some blonde hussy? Going way back, she ran track at a rival high school, and because my school was - how do I put this tactfully - more elite than hers, Spanky was somewhat of a Hanover track groupie. No, her teammates didn't like her very much. After track senior year, the only time I heard about Spanky was when I'd play the name game with people who went to her school and hear about how after the first week of freshman year, she had earned a mega reputation after performing a pole dance. Supposedly it was naked. Unfortunately, like many college rumors, real life turned out to be less exciting. I actually saw the photos a few months ago and she had a swimsuit on. Nice, but not that thrilling. But until summer of '09, that was the only thing I heard about Spanky.
Then one day in July, I got one of those Facebook messages. You know, you start perusing friends of the opposite sex who you probably have had nothing to do with in at least half a decade... sometimes longer... and then, since it's Facebook, you send one of those messages(probably at around 2am). The message should read, "Hey, I know we haven't talked in ages(or ever), but I was stalking your photos, and you look hot. It's really too bad we never got together and knocked boots. In an ideal world, you'd come over, we'd fuck wildly, and then you'd leave." But they never read like that. It's always the safe, pathetic, "Hi! It's been ages? How are you doing? Give me a shout sometime!" And as you know, geographic impossibility doesn't matter - it's good enough to simply cast that line, because if you do get something favorable back, it's like winning the lottery - and you can't win if you don't play. We all do it, and it's all good... So here is, verbatim, the message I got from Spanky on July 19th:
"Hey there! Just seeing what's new and how your summer is going! Spanky :)"
Classic. I bet you really give a shit what's new. And no, my 8 inch dick does not have a name yet - so if you can think up something good, go ahead. And who the hell ever says they're having a shitty summer? Summer is the bomb! So I write back:
"Spanky... how the heck are you? I'm doing extremely well - quit my wretched job on wall st a month ago, and am in the final stages of planning a cycling trip across the country. Where are you these days? -Ben"
And she responds almost instantaneously:
"Ben! Congrats on following what you want to do, good luck on the road trip! I am teaching at ----------, coaching -------------- and --------------, and enjoying life with fam and friends. When are you making your way back up to good ole -----------?"
'Enjoying life with family and friends'? Who says that? Regardless, you will note the last line, where she essentially offers her orifices for penetration, if I'll only come visit. But fuck that, I'm not going anywhere. If she wants to get porked after admiring my Facebook photos, she can come get it. So I gamely respond:
"Hey! Thanks, I'm pretty excited about it... pretty much living the dream right now! Congrats on the job, etc... although we all know ------------ sucks ;) Maybe you can turn things around for them. As for visiting ----------------... not sure just yet. At the moment, I'm in Pittsburgh, PA visiting my mom and stealing some gear for my trip. What're you doing this weekend? If you don't have plans you should come rock out with me in steel city. My mom's having a cocktail party tonight here too, so while I know it's a trek, it'd be fun :) Anyway, coffee time... let me know if you're coming!"
Hey, why not. I'm all for ass delivered to my doorstep. She replies:
"Hahaha I'd love to come to Pitt but I just got home from FL. Any cheap flights I could catch for the weekend? I have some new dresses I've been dying to wear!"
New dresses, huh? Given the fashion capitol she lives in, I'm sure whatever dresses she has in mind would trigger my gag reflex... but I dig the enthusiasm. And as I don't really give a shit whether my pussy is delivered by JetBlue, Fed-Ex, or stagecoach, I reply:
"Hmmm, no good flights, I don't think... not sure about trains or buses though. Regardless, I say you just jump in the car and get out here! I'll give you directions - it's a long, but very easy drive. And when you get here, I'll have a drink waiting for you! So, when are you leaving?"
Who doesn't want to embark on a solid 8-9 hour drive for a little smashing? You can still self-lubricate even if your eyes are crossed, right? She writes back:
"I have to be back Monday morning because I am teaching summer school for 2 weeks...I so want to go, ur soooo sweet! I will let you know, but regardless, we must hang out soon!"
Translation: 'I would SO let you do anal if you fly me out there... but anyway, let's plan an ideal time for a sex rendezvous." But as I said, I don't really give a crap about her logistical complications - it's Friday night: I'm chilaxing and getting drunk no matter what happens - if I get to add some intercourse to that equation, even better. So I write:
"Definitely! There are tons of buses from NYC, btw - ------------- to NYC, then NYC to Pittsburgh should be pretty easy, and doesn't matter how late you get in, so get down here!!! When you figure it out, give me a call."
Take a 15 hour bus ride... oh, what an asshole I am. But hey, she's the one who went Facebook fishing. She's lucky she got a response.
Anyway, about a week later she books me a ticket to come see her. I'm either better looking than I thought, or her dry spell has reached Saharan proportions. But who cares? I hop on the plane, and for three days do exactly what you do when a girl buys you a ticket to come see her - a week and a half after she sends you a Facebook message after not having any contact with you for NINE years. Yeah.
Anyway, I actually had a good time. She's a sweet girl, but has raging ADD. I have ADD too, but I can keep things in check - she is legit dysfunctional without her meds, which I find amusing. She also gets annoyed with me very easily - I mock her proud claims of a 4.0 average in high school in college by saying, "Honestly, that's great, but that number doesn't mean anything... it's what you KNOW, and what's on your resume." Yeah, that pissed her off. She's also exceptionally literal, so she doesn't get my sarcasm. She'll start getting defensive, and then I say, "Chill, I'm being sarcastic!" She then switches from defensive to annoyed, saying, "You know I don't GET sarcasm... I'm a very literal person." No, Spanky, you are just a Ritalin Robot. But of course I don't say that. Insert orgasm sound.
So anyway, first few weeks of the trip slide by... I'm jamming, having a good time, able to text/call with some regularity, but here's the rub. Being a teacher, Spanky goes to bed early. Like 9:30/10. Every weeknight. This is bad for two reasons - 1, I am often on the bike until 6 or 7 if I'm having a long or leisurely day. So for the first part of the trip, when it was 7pm in Inidiana, it was 8pm in Spanky-land. Almost bedtime. Crossing into Colorado, it got even
worse - now that when it's 7 for me, it's 9 for Spanky. But more importantly, when I'm done riding, I then have to set up my tent, get showered, figure out if I can charge my cell phone, etc. Bottom line - when you camp out, there's shit to do at the end of the day. Sometimes I'd meet cool people, and want to talk instead of hermitizing in my tent. Part of the journey, and these random interactions are a special part of the trip - doesn't take John Muir to figure that out.
What irritated me though was that Spanky never asked about my trip. Not, how are you? See anything cool? Etc... It was always her launching into some talk about the stupid fucking lesson plan for class, and then about the girls on the team she coaches. Always the same. And when she was done yammering, she'd go to sleep. Yeah, nice talking to you, Spanky. I had a great day, thanks for asking.
So, one day, I text and ask her if she's mad after a rather curt reply. She writes, "If you haven't been biking then waiting til I'm asleep makes me feel like ur waiting so u don't have to get a response" I also forgot to mention that she is ragingly insecure...
This is where it gets funny though... So, in Denver, I was visiting this chica who I've been talking to for over a year and a half, but somehow we just never got together. I was pretty pumped, and Spanky was annoying me, so I just stopped returning texts/calls for about 4 days because I was having a blast in Denver. Remember that whole insecurity thing I mentioned? Well, Spanky also has a seriously fucked brand of daddy complex which I won't get into right now, but suffice to say, she goes into 'self-preservation' faster than I can say "seek therapy". So she stops picking up my calls, answers texts with one or two words, etc. I'm not upset, just curious.(has Spanky actually acquired some dignity?!)
To satisfy my curiosity, I finally text, "Are you mad at me? You never pick up, and your texts are rather curt." She responds with, "Not mad, just lost interest." Hahahahahahahahahaha, okay. I'm like, it's cool, we're not a relationship, you can date other people or do whatever you want. She writes back, "Okay, it was just moving too fast then you got weird and I lost interest. Doesn't mean we can't be friends"
I know that one probably took her a while to think up, bc she didn't respond for about an hour(ADD girl can't go 5 minutes without responding to texts). I don't know how things move too fast when I am a couple thousand miles away, and generally incommunicado, but hey, I'm cool with being shut down. I just thought it was hilarious that it's the best she could do. She didn't say, "I know you didn't talk to me while you were in Denver bc you were tapping some other ass, and I just don't like sharing." Or, "It's hard talking to you while you're off on a fabulous adventure you've always dreamed about, so it's better if we don't communicate - that way I'm not reminded of the inadequacies and horrible monotony of my day-to-day life."
So I'm in Utah, and haven't communicated with her since. The sad thing is, I know the second I'm back on the eastern seaboard, she'll come calling - and I will be sure to report on it. Both because it will likely be pathetically predictable, and because you probably want to see more naked photos - which I will unquestionably coerce her into sending.
Be good,
The Ski Patrol
Oh, and she also sends me naked photos(yep, that's her), and makes phone sex fun. What guy doesn't love that?
So, backing up... where does Spanky enter all this, and why am bothering to write about some blonde hussy? Going way back, she ran track at a rival high school, and because my school was - how do I put this tactfully - more elite than hers, Spanky was somewhat of a Hanover track groupie. No, her teammates didn't like her very much. After track senior year, the only time I heard about Spanky was when I'd play the name game with people who went to her school and hear about how after the first week of freshman year, she had earned a mega reputation after performing a pole dance. Supposedly it was naked. Unfortunately, like many college rumors, real life turned out to be less exciting. I actually saw the photos a few months ago and she had a swimsuit on. Nice, but not that thrilling. But until summer of '09, that was the only thing I heard about Spanky.Then one day in July, I got one of those Facebook messages. You know, you start perusing friends of the opposite sex who you probably have had nothing to do with in at least half a decade... sometimes longer... and then, since it's Facebook, you send one of those messages(probably at around 2am). The message should read, "Hey, I know we haven't talked in ages(or ever), but I was stalking your photos, and you look hot. It's really too bad we never got together and knocked boots. In an ideal world, you'd come over, we'd fuck wildly, and then you'd leave." But they never read like that. It's always the safe, pathetic, "Hi! It's been ages? How are you doing? Give me a shout sometime!" And as you know, geographic impossibility doesn't matter - it's good enough to simply cast that line, because if you do get something favorable back, it's like winning the lottery - and you can't win if you don't play. We all do it, and it's all good... So here is, verbatim, the message I got from Spanky on July 19th:
"Hey there! Just seeing what's new and how your summer is going! Spanky :)"
Classic. I bet you really give a shit what's new. And no, my 8 inch dick does not have a name yet - so if you can think up something good, go ahead. And who the hell ever says they're having a shitty summer? Summer is the bomb! So I write back:
"Spanky... how the heck are you? I'm doing extremely well - quit my wretched job on wall st a month ago, and am in the final stages of planning a cycling trip across the country. Where are you these days? -Ben"
And she responds almost instantaneously:
"Ben! Congrats on following what you want to do, good luck on the road trip! I am teaching at ----------, coaching -------------- and --------------, and enjoying life with fam and friends. When are you making your way back up to good ole -----------?"
'Enjoying life with family and friends'? Who says that? Regardless, you will note the last line, where she essentially offers her orifices for penetration, if I'll only come visit. But fuck that, I'm not going anywhere. If she wants to get porked after admiring my Facebook photos, she can come get it. So I gamely respond:
"Hey! Thanks, I'm pretty excited about it... pretty much living the dream right now! Congrats on the job, etc... although we all know ------------ sucks ;) Maybe you can turn things around for them. As for visiting ----------------... not sure just yet. At the moment, I'm in Pittsburgh, PA visiting my mom and stealing some gear for my trip. What're you doing this weekend? If you don't have plans you should come rock out with me in steel city. My mom's having a cocktail party tonight here too, so while I know it's a trek, it'd be fun :) Anyway, coffee time... let me know if you're coming!"
Hey, why not. I'm all for ass delivered to my doorstep. She replies:
"Hahaha I'd love to come to Pitt but I just got home from FL. Any cheap flights I could catch for the weekend? I have some new dresses I've been dying to wear!"
New dresses, huh? Given the fashion capitol she lives in, I'm sure whatever dresses she has in mind would trigger my gag reflex... but I dig the enthusiasm. And as I don't really give a shit whether my pussy is delivered by JetBlue, Fed-Ex, or stagecoach, I reply:
"Hmmm, no good flights, I don't think... not sure about trains or buses though. Regardless, I say you just jump in the car and get out here! I'll give you directions - it's a long, but very easy drive. And when you get here, I'll have a drink waiting for you! So, when are you leaving?"
Who doesn't want to embark on a solid 8-9 hour drive for a little smashing? You can still self-lubricate even if your eyes are crossed, right? She writes back:
"I have to be back Monday morning because I am teaching summer school for 2 weeks...I so want to go, ur soooo sweet! I will let you know, but regardless, we must hang out soon!"
Translation: 'I would SO let you do anal if you fly me out there... but anyway, let's plan an ideal time for a sex rendezvous." But as I said, I don't really give a crap about her logistical complications - it's Friday night: I'm chilaxing and getting drunk no matter what happens - if I get to add some intercourse to that equation, even better. So I write:
"Definitely! There are tons of buses from NYC, btw - ------------- to NYC, then NYC to Pittsburgh should be pretty easy, and doesn't matter how late you get in, so get down here!!! When you figure it out, give me a call."
Take a 15 hour bus ride... oh, what an asshole I am. But hey, she's the one who went Facebook fishing. She's lucky she got a response.
Anyway, about a week later she books me a ticket to come see her. I'm either better looking than I thought, or her dry spell has reached Saharan proportions. But who cares? I hop on the plane, and for three days do exactly what you do when a girl buys you a ticket to come see her - a week and a half after she sends you a Facebook message after not having any contact with you for NINE years. Yeah.
Anyway, I actually had a good time. She's a sweet girl, but has raging ADD. I have ADD too, but I can keep things in check - she is legit dysfunctional without her meds, which I find amusing. She also gets annoyed with me very easily - I mock her proud claims of a 4.0 average in high school in college by saying, "Honestly, that's great, but that number doesn't mean anything... it's what you KNOW, and what's on your resume." Yeah, that pissed her off. She's also exceptionally literal, so she doesn't get my sarcasm. She'll start getting defensive, and then I say, "Chill, I'm being sarcastic!" She then switches from defensive to annoyed, saying, "You know I don't GET sarcasm... I'm a very literal person." No, Spanky, you are just a Ritalin Robot. But of course I don't say that. Insert orgasm sound.
So anyway, first few weeks of the trip slide by... I'm jamming, having a good time, able to text/call with some regularity, but here's the rub. Being a teacher, Spanky goes to bed early. Like 9:30/10. Every weeknight. This is bad for two reasons - 1, I am often on the bike until 6 or 7 if I'm having a long or leisurely day. So for the first part of the trip, when it was 7pm in Inidiana, it was 8pm in Spanky-land. Almost bedtime. Crossing into Colorado, it got even
worse - now that when it's 7 for me, it's 9 for Spanky. But more importantly, when I'm done riding, I then have to set up my tent, get showered, figure out if I can charge my cell phone, etc. Bottom line - when you camp out, there's shit to do at the end of the day. Sometimes I'd meet cool people, and want to talk instead of hermitizing in my tent. Part of the journey, and these random interactions are a special part of the trip - doesn't take John Muir to figure that out.
What irritated me though was that Spanky never asked about my trip. Not, how are you? See anything cool? Etc... It was always her launching into some talk about the stupid fucking lesson plan for class, and then about the girls on the team she coaches. Always the same. And when she was done yammering, she'd go to sleep. Yeah, nice talking to you, Spanky. I had a great day, thanks for asking.
So, one day, I text and ask her if she's mad after a rather curt reply. She writes, "If you haven't been biking then waiting til I'm asleep makes me feel like ur waiting so u don't have to get a response" I also forgot to mention that she is ragingly insecure...
This is where it gets funny though... So, in Denver, I was visiting this chica who I've been talking to for over a year and a half, but somehow we just never got together. I was pretty pumped, and Spanky was annoying me, so I just stopped returning texts/calls for about 4 days because I was having a blast in Denver. Remember that whole insecurity thing I mentioned? Well, Spanky also has a seriously fucked brand of daddy complex which I won't get into right now, but suffice to say, she goes into 'self-preservation' faster than I can say "seek therapy". So she stops picking up my calls, answers texts with one or two words, etc. I'm not upset, just curious.(has Spanky actually acquired some dignity?!)
To satisfy my curiosity, I finally text, "Are you mad at me? You never pick up, and your texts are rather curt." She responds with, "Not mad, just lost interest." Hahahahahahahahahaha, okay. I'm like, it's cool, we're not a relationship, you can date other people or do whatever you want. She writes back, "Okay, it was just moving too fast then you got weird and I lost interest. Doesn't mean we can't be friends"
I know that one probably took her a while to think up, bc she didn't respond for about an hour(ADD girl can't go 5 minutes without responding to texts). I don't know how things move too fast when I am a couple thousand miles away, and generally incommunicado, but hey, I'm cool with being shut down. I just thought it was hilarious that it's the best she could do. She didn't say, "I know you didn't talk to me while you were in Denver bc you were tapping some other ass, and I just don't like sharing." Or, "It's hard talking to you while you're off on a fabulous adventure you've always dreamed about, so it's better if we don't communicate - that way I'm not reminded of the inadequacies and horrible monotony of my day-to-day life."
So I'm in Utah, and haven't communicated with her since. The sad thing is, I know the second I'm back on the eastern seaboard, she'll come calling - and I will be sure to report on it. Both because it will likely be pathetically predictable, and because you probably want to see more naked photos - which I will unquestionably coerce her into sending.
Be good,
The Ski Patrol
Thursday, September 3, 2009
So, what do we have here...
For those of you getting to see this thing, you're either a close friend, or somebody who has stumbled across this randomly... Either way, this is the place where you can read about the things from my cross country cycling trip that my parents, relatives, equipment sponsors, and the women in my life shouldn't see or know. Maybe it's gross, maybe I've done something stupid/illegal, maybe on my way through the Navajo Nation I finally get to nail Pocahontas(a serious goal for this trip)... or else it'll be random rants and raves, of which I'm sure there will be many. Whatever it is, it's not for general consumption, but maybe worth sharing, so I'll just put it here.
Good talk. See ya out there.
Good talk. See ya out there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)