Thursday, June 16, 2005

On kissing Fred

Steadily my blog seems to be transforming into the kind of page I wouldn't want my future ex-wife to see. Maybe I need to clean up my act. Start writing about flowers and butterflies and shit.
But before I do that, I just have to tell the story of my friend Fred.

About a decade or two ago, I had a friend called Fred. His name wasn't really "Fred". It might have been "Eugene", or "Oliver", who cares. But Fred walked like a Fred and talked like a Fred, so everybody called him Fred, and nobody seemed to remember his real name. Now Fred was built like a wall. He had eyes that could stop the advance of the Islamic hordes. Must have come in handy, since he played in our national rugby team. Originally Fred was from South Africa, and he had the faintest trace of an upperclass foreign accent. In short, he was every college girls wet dream.

With this magnificent introduction of our protagonist, we now come to the main story which is surprisingly short.

One night I was on a drinking bout with Fred. Both of us, sitting at the bar, were piss-drunk. So, as drunkards do, I put my arm on his shoulder, and said: "Fred, my man, I love you." Fred, either more sober or more drunk than I gave him credit for, put his arms around me, pressed his lips on mine and tried to force his tongue way deep into my throat. Then in one of those immortal magical moments, Fred looked at me with cloudy eyes and said: "Ever since I've known you, I have loved you."
It took me about three seconds to sober up, leave the bar (on all fours), run home and bolt the door.
The next time I met Fred was about three years later when he introduced me to his fiance, a small dude from Algeria. (Not half as cute as me.)

From this we can learn two things.
1) Shit happens in Amsterdam.
2) Fred had great taste.

9 Comments:

Blogger Ms Burden said...

From that I may also confirm my theory that there are there types of person that can never hold to their deep feelings: children, feeble old ladies, and boozed gays!!!!

2:31 AM  
Blogger prairie biker said...

I noticed you cleverly avoided the issue of whether or not you popped wood.

4:26 AM  
Blogger Rosie (formerly known as Rox) said...

Yes dear, Fred has excellent taste in men. But I bet you did pop a woody. Love ya.

7:19 PM  
Blogger bulb said...

Geeeez guys. After this incident I had to start wearing pants three sizes too small for six months.

7:51 PM  
Blogger Rosie (formerly known as Rox) said...

Please don't ever stop being who you really are. You're so great. If your future companion is reading your blog, she'll love everybit of it. Keep up the good work. Love ya.

11:27 PM  
Blogger pearl said...

poor poor coj...getting molested like that!!!

cant really blame the guy...i wanna molest ya too....

11:56 PM  
Blogger bulb said...

Hell Pearl, I'd molest myself if I could.

12:11 AM  
Blogger Sassy said...

If you clean your act up, you'd be changing the "bulb" that I so adore!

1:24 AM  
Blogger kris said...

ok, um poor fred...you broke his heart. i would give my eye teeth for a blackmail photo, just so i could own ya...hee

1:38 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home