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How big is your "bracket?" -- A HIMYM homage

Discussion in 'Anything goes' started by JayFarrar, Apr 1, 2008.

  1. kokane_muthashed

    kokane_muthashed Active Member

    Does blowjob-in-the-car equal CBI field?
     
  2. bigpern23

    bigpern23 Well-Known Member

    This thread cracks me up, but there are several women who I wouldn't want to talk about in this manner, so I'll refrain from the discussion.

    I am entertained by the responses, so far though. :D
     
  3. forever_town

    forever_town Well-Known Member

    My "conference" is so small it doesn't even have a tournament.
     
  4. JayFarrar

    JayFarrar Well-Known Member

    After working up some names, I came up with eight who would have a reason to hate me.
    My overall champ is Holly, the girl who used to cut my hair. I sent a friend there to get his haircut and found out through him that she really liked me. So next time I get my haircut I get her number and call her that week, ask if she wants to come over.
    She does, eat dinner, watch a movie and hookup. Spends the night even.
    I had been going to get a haircut there for well over six months.
    When she left the next day, I never saw her again.
    Didn't talk to her and for damn sure didn't get my haircut there again.
    My friend, the one who was getting his haircut there, did one more time and reported back that I was the one person she would kill if she got the chance.
    I didn't feel bad about it then, but I do now.
     
  5. mike311gd

    mike311gd Active Member

    I had gotten dumped at college a week earlier and was in pretty bad shape. So, while at home for spring break, my brother-in-law, Shawn, good friend, Fat Mike, and I go to one of the regular bars and start drinking. I noticed a girl I graduated high school with, and really only recognized her because she dated my friend for a couple months.

    Sitting next to (I can't think of her name now) were two friends, a good-looking, young brunette and a slightly less attractive, older blond woman, who my brother-in-law actually knew. It turns out all three of them work at Red Lobster. So the older woman, 29, walks over to us and strikes up a conversation when my mom's cousin, who is best friends with the blond, Shannon, walks out of the bathroom. Now, Sally is a bit of a nut-job. The cheese slid off her cracker a long, long time ago. (She's 44, I think, and got remarried last year; the theme was Mickey Mouse.) So Shawn and I look at each other and think, "How do we get away from these two?" Well, we didn't.

    They ended up ditching their friends and hanging out with us. We drank until the bar closed, and it actually wasn't a bad time -- even with Crazy Sally there. Shannon graduated from the same high school I attended, and she even had my dad as a teacher. She was two years older than my oldest sister, so we had a lot to talk about.

    The five of us went back to Shawn's house to play cards, and Shannon and I disappeared into a hidden part and began making out. By the way, I knew she wanted to kiss me because she put her hands through my hair; maybe I'm not that lost with the signs after all.

    She called me the next day, and Fat Mike and I met Shannon and Sally at a country western bar in Upstate New York. I didn't even know that part of the state had them. Shannon and I spoke for a bit, and I continually threw verbal jabs about our age differences, then Fat Mike bailed, which was OK because I was driving my mom's car. I totaled mine about two years earlier and hadn't gotten another one.

    The three of us -- Shannon, Sally and myself -- go to this small bar and drink until 4 a.m., when Sally wants to go. Somehow, I used my charm to convince Shannon to come back to my parents' house. Because that's every woman's dream line, she agreed and we went back to my place. We did what two consenting adults -- 29 and 21 -- do for an hour or so and decided to relax for a bit. Shannon was pretty cold, so I got up and threw the naked lady my class sweatshirt from my senior year, with a big '01 on it. I laughed when I found it, and I laughed while it was in the air, and I laughed when she saw the year on her right shoulder. Then I got back into bed and went to sleep.

    I told her, "We've got to leave around 6 a.m., though." She asked why, and I said, "Because that's my mom's car, and if we leave so I can get back before she needs to take it for work, we're screwed -- figuratively, this time." The alarm signals an hour later, and we hustle out to the car. She ends up taking me to some place I've never seen before in the outskirts of a neighboring city, about 30 minutes from my house, and she said, "This is my parents' house." (We were both winners.) We hugged each other, and as she's getting out of the car, I said, "Give me a call sometime," knowing full well I didn't care if she did and she probably didn't, either.

    Then it was a race against time. It's 6:44 a.m., and I've got 31 minutes to get home before my mother, with whom I'm not even speaking at the time, notices her car is still gone. I sped, cut corners, broke traffic laws and, luckily, got some green lights. I walked in the door, hung up the keys and went downstairs to my room. I sat at my computer to tell Fat Mike I'd just slept with a 29-year-old woman before going back to sleep. As I shut eyes, I heard my mom start the car. All was right in the world.

    To this day, though, I'm not sure who was wronged that night. But every time Fat Mike and Shawn go to Red Lobster, they tell Shannon I said hi and report back to me. I'm sure it means a whole lot to her.
     
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