so then i went home and ordered some fresh burritos and ate them. some kid delivered them on rollerblades. YES, ROLLERBLADES! and then i was so full and i put on my pajamas and my stocking cap and climbed into my canopy bed when all of sudden, BOOM! my Sidekick starts blowin' up with texts.
stranger: do you want to make out with a guy in skinny jeans
i did not recognize this number so i wrote back:
mccullen: totally yes
stranger: what time and where
mccullen: meet me at the river
mccullen: okay, funny. who is this?
stranger: lets just say i deliver more than burritos
mccullen: i'm going to sleep now.
burrito deliverer: okay, sleep well
i am not fucking with you. this actually fucking came to pass. AGAIN. this is seriously, like, the fifth time.
it's almost as though i have a magic penis that somehow effortlessly taps into the libidos of blokes in the food service industry.
that said, i shouldn't really be surprised; my whole life is so completely shitty that it would figure that if and when God decided to gift me with a penis possessed of magical powers, all it would be able to do would be seduce dudes who smell like a deep-fryer.
with sweat on it.