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Joanna didn’t stand a chance. Not with the dance moves that Richard had so meticulously been working on for six months, since he got the wedding invitation from Kristy and Chad.
The flow, the hips, the steely eyes. Well if these didn’t melt Joanna’s icy heart than Richard had no idea what would.
Finally, the day arrived, Richard dressed in his finest, anxiously waited through the stupid ceremony. “Blah, blah, blah, you love each other and shit. Let’s get to the dancing.” He suffered through a four course meal. Kristy and Chad really did spare no expense.
Finally it came, tables were cleared, the hastily patched together band took their “stage” and Kristy and Chad had their first dance. Richard wasn’t paying attention though, it was probably some shitty Journey song. Finally after what seemed like an eternity it was time. Richard had sought out the lead singer in the wheelchair early in the evening.
“Here’s $20 bro, can I get Styx’s Come Sail Away right away?”
“No worries man.”
It was when he heard the spine chilling piano keys that Richard sprinted to the dance area, nearly knocking over an old lady and decapitating a ten year old. When he finally reached the designated grass he proceeded to launch into the most epic and meticulous dance ever choreographed. Suffice to say Joanna was not impressed, in fact she found him even weirder than before.
Listen, I know I got everyone’s hopes up with this suggestion of a menage a trois. But honestly, I didn’t really think you would take me up on the offer.
It’s not that I wouldn’t be honored to touch genitals with you guys, it’s mostly that I don’t think I’d have anything to wear…
Scouring my closet I really can’t find anything sexy enough for some hot steamy French sex action. I mean I know my purple thong seems sexy in theory, but in actuality, not so much.
I know that in the heat of the moment, there may be some unexpected penis touching. Trust me, that is not making me hesitant about this. I’m having big problems picking out the right music for the situation. I was thinking maybe some Pizzicato 5, but that reminds me too much of my ex. Perhaps Sergio Mendes, but that may be even too sultry for sexy three-way action.
Also you know what, there is a really important baseball game on tonight and I feel like I will not be fully invested in the satisfaction of all parties involved, myself included. And frankly that is not fair to anybody. I strongly feel that a menage a trois demands the full and complete attention of everyone.
So in summary, it’s not you, it’s me.
Okay, we should probably talk about this. I really like you and you seem to enjoy my company as well. Anyways in the interest of full disclosure I feel like we should let it all hang out you know? Honesty as some sort of policy, am I right?
That being said you should probably know that I spent a night in a Mexican jail. I know, I know, it sounds like it’s a big deal, but really it isn’t. I mean who hasn’t spent a Spring Break messing around and making mistakes right? It was just a misunderstanding between the local law enforcement, a killer margarita, and me. It was nothing really. My bro showed up the next day with bribe money and I skedaddled out of the country. So, really no biggie.
Numero dos. I quite literally have never missed an episode of Survivor. Like, my entire social calendar is set around watching Survivor live. In fact I refuse to watch it on DVR, but of course I have never had to, because, as I said I have never missed an episode. I mean I’m not sure if it’s possible for a show to improve with every successive season quite like Survivor has. Jeff Probst shits metaphorical gold with every Tribal Council. As a side note I have contributed 28 videotaped auditions for the show. Now I know what you’re probably thinking. You are more than likely thinking wait haven’t there only been 22 seasons? You sir would be correct! 6 seasons, in complete fandom I sent in multiple tapes. Now I’m not crazy, I of course wore disguises. But I’m still waiting for that call maybe Survivor: South Pacific is my shot.
Finally my father is a cannibal. Now hold on, your perhaps asking yourself, why I didn’t lead off with this one? Quite frankly my father’s cannibalism doesn’t define me. You know they say you can pick your nose and your friends but you can’t pick your family. That is true, I mean obviously I would not have chosen a cannibal for a father, but alas. Now before you get hung up on my Dad’s urge for the thigh of humanity let me tell you, he’s a wizard over the grill. The Hunger is most certainly not a trait, I mean it cant be carried in DNA right? My father’s lust for the flesh of humans has had very little impact on my development as a good person who also occasionally craves man-meat.
So, was there anything you wanted to tell me?