2004-06-05
SHE: I'm going to see Harry Potter tonight.ME: Harry Potter, eh? Well, everyone dies. Ha. And then Hitler comes out.
SHE: Oh. Sweet. Didn't know you'd seen it.
ME: Seen it? I wrote it.
SHE: Oh really? Well, you must be rolling in dough. Give me some.
ME: The movie version, not the book. I took a few artistic liberties. For example, Sirius Black is now played by Bette Midler. Bet you didn't know that either.
SHE: Well hell, no I didn't.
ME: Hold on a sec.
SHE: NO. MAKE ME. I DONT WANNA.
ME: Oh, you will, or I'll really ruin Harry Potter for you.
SHE: How? I read the damn book nine times.
ME: I'm talking about the movie. Don't make me do it.
SHE: Oh, Andy. Shut up.
ME: Fine. You asked for it. Harry Potter is played by Meat Loaf. There. I didn't want to do it.
IN OTHER NEWS:
I've figured out why making out is so hot.
Because it's not that you get to just, you know, NECK or whatever the kids are calling it these days, but you get a sort of unspoken access pass to all of those parts of a girl that you were admiring from afar in a sort of "look, but don't touch" way.
Like a little kid is drawn to shiny things, men are drawn to the nuts and bolt of the female body. The hips that you just want to wrap your arms around? Can't touch 'em, but when you start making out, the fourth wall is broken, and even laying your hand on one sends as much of a charge though you as a bolt of lightning.
Long, thick, full hair? You can run your fingers through the long, thick, full length of it. While you're making out. That little indented spot where her neck meets her chest? Dive right in. While making out. That little tattoo on the small of her back? You can glide your fingertips over it and feel the spots where her skin rises just slighty from the scars. Here again, making out.
Basically, while making out, you can quietly conquer the feminine body like a subtle but determined Mongol horde. The aftermath: indescribable satisfaction. Solving the little mysteries of woman one earlobe at a time. And ladies, DON'T sit there and think that this analysis is one-sided. All the same goes for you. And you like it when we bite your ears.
THAT is why making out is not, nor will ever be, a lost art.
For the record, I did not make out tonight. This notion occured to me only this afternoon while I was sitting by the pool watching a girl fix a swimsuit wedgie.
-Andy