A Little BJ Among Friends

I have some fabulous friends... let me tell you.

All of them are fun and interesting in different ways.

Recently, I've been talking with one of my friends from my first college program with Disney in the Summer of 2000... Jayme.

Well... Jayme has always been somewhat of a fun and wild girl... so I wasn't at all shocked when she told me that she had a date coming up this weekend... and honestly, I wasn't overly surprised when she told me that she met him at a strip club.

Right-o.

So... I got an email from her, today with a little update on the date...

"You know how I said that I have a date on Sat. Well, I was telling my girlfriend about this guy and what I found out about him through talking over IM. So I tell her his name and she freaks out. She runs to her computer and pulls up a picture. She is like, "Is this him?" I was like "yeah." Well, it turns out that this guy that I randomly met at a strip club on Sat has received a BJ from a girl that I have known all of life. God, what are the odds? Well, this is a small, small, world, but I guess I don't have to tell you that. I think that I my date is off because I have this thing about dating guys that my friends have given blow jobs to, and I just don't think it is going to work out."

If I had a nickel for every time I ran into *that* problem...

I'd still be poor.

Honest.

Word of advice to anyone attempting to visit me in Florida...

Never show up, knocking on my door...

Before noon.

Ever.

This goes for friends, family, the UPS guy, apartment complex maintenance and any Girl Scout trying to sell me cookies.

Unless the Girl Scout has the actual boxes of cookies... and not just the order form.

Mmmm... cookies...

But... I digress...

Now... if you're at my door with some valid purpose... I can handle you with some sort of decency.

However, if you're at my door with a purpose... and knocking on *my* door has no part off your purpose... then just fucking walk away from my door.

You're confused I see...

Well... it all started the other day...

And when I say "the other day,"... what I really mean in *this* instance is... like three of four months ago...

It was about one o'clock in the morning and I was sitting in the living room on my big, comfy couch, just chillin' and watchin� TV.

Suddenly, there is a sheepish tap on my front door.

My roommate's door was closed and her light was off... surely the visitor wasn't for her...

I mute the sound on the TV, waiting for the knock, again, as it's sometimes really hard to tell in my apartment complex whether the person is knocking on *your* door... or on one of the neighbors'.

As I got up from the couch and silently stepped my way to the door, I heard the shuffle of feet directly on the other side.

Through the peephole, I saw a tall guy, in this late teens/early twenties... he was kinda hunched over. His broad shoulders were loosely covered in a dark blue zip-up hoodie. It looked like the clothing had been worn in many football practices in prior high school glory days.

I watch him slowly lift his hand towards the door, again, seemingly unsure whether to knock again or to leave. It was actually kind of odd to see this big football-type guy sheepishly stand in front of my door.

As his hand began to lower, again, I opened the door.

"Hey... um... hi," the guy seemed nervous.

"Hi. Can I help you?" I asked cautiously.

"Um... yeah... does Ryan live here?" the deep, disgustingly straight voice boomed.

"Um... not so much... um... what apartment are you looking for?"

"Uhh... I'm looking for apartment 14407."

"Right. This is 14 *3* 07."

"Dude. I know. I can't find 407."

"That's probably because it doesn't exist. 407 would be on the forth floor. But... there is no forth floor. In any of these buildings."

"Um... yeah. Ok. Maybe I wrote it down wrong. Thanks, dude."

And with that the guy shuffled away... his heavy steps on the stairs echoed in the acoustically inept hallway.

So... I really thought nothing of this little encounter...

But... over the course of the last couple months, it's been happening more and more. For as little as I'm actually at home, I've gotten seven or eight visitors in search of Ryan in apartment 14407.

This morning, however, I was not at all amused to be woken up with banging on my door with someone in search of the elusive Ryan.

Normally, the heathens in search of Ryan have been kinda quiet and skiddish... but not this morning.

Last night, after parade at Epcot, I went out to dinner with my roommate and then got ready to go out to PI. It was a long and intersting night. So, after stumbling in the front door at 3:30am, I had to stay awake to drive my roommate to the airport at 5:30. Coming home and unable to get myself into bed long after the sun had risen at 7:30, I was in a deep deep sleep at 10am.

I thought the door was going to break down. I thought the INS had come to remove an illegal alien from the laundry room, or something.

The pounding was so loud that it awoke me from behind a closed door and an alcohol/lack of sleep induced slumber.

As I stumbled towards the door, the pounding got louder.

"Good Lord! I'm coming!" I shouted.

I was in such a state of distress that I didn't even bother looking through the peep hole. A young guppy type (the same thing as a yuppy... but gay) was standing at the door. Had I not been wiping the sleep from my eyes, dressed in a gray basics t-shirt and an oversized pair of boxers, I might have cared or tried to hit on him or something.

But he had disturbed my sleep.

Offenders must be destroyed.

I must have opened the door pretty quickly... or maybe I was just a really scary sight... but whatever the reason, the little guppy jumped back from the door, with a startled look on his face. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand and doing a double take of the number next to the door and the number on the paper.

Before he had a chance to speak, I cut him off. "No. Ryan does not live here. There is no apartment 14407 in this complex."

Now... for anyone who really knows me, they can tell you that while I do actually have some sort of an inner monologue, albeit limited and seldom used, when I'm extremely tired, irritated or drunk, it goes away completely.

Words started to come out of my mouth... and I'm still not totally sure where they came from... "He actually lives in the *other* Sabal Palm. The one in MetroWest. It's ok... it happens all the time."

The guppy looked confused. "Get onto I-4 and go towards Orlando. Take the exit on the left onto Kirkman and follow the road down. It'll be on the right after a few miles," I continued without a pause.

"So... I have to know," I continued sarcastically, "Is Ryan a drug dealer or a hooker?"

"Wha... um... huh?" the guppy was now genuinely confused.

"I'm just wondering... because people come here looking for him all the time. I was just curious."

The stuttering guppy was... well... stuttering.

"Whatever... I don't really care. But when you do see this elusive Ryan person... tell him to stop fucking sending people to this complex in search of an apartment that doesn�t exist."

And I slammed the door shut and crawled back into bed.

What can I say?

Had he any Girl Scout cookies, I'm sure the scenario would have ended a lot differently.

later, kids...

~robert