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Superbowl…Super fail.  

SilyconBond 53M
265 posts
2/8/2021 6:40 pm

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2/8/2021 6:41 pm

Superbowl…Super fail.


I got my friend’s house early. Too early. Anyway, thirty minutes too early. I had brought beer, Miller light and Budweiser, and vanilla ice cream.
As she is making the cobbler, we are chatting about my other relations. I hadn’t realized how much she had known about . Her husband was there, friendly, and their friends started showing up. I realized I needed another fifty pounds around my middle fit in. These were some pretty big boys. At least with my six-foot height, I was the tallest. Everyone seemed be wanting the ‘Bucs win, so of course, I chose the Chiefs. It was nice know there were some Cowboy fans there.
I was really having a good time. Some of them worked on-site with me in the past, so I had a lot in common with a few. I just never spent time away from work with them. I love spending time with guys away from wor Away from the political correctness, away from timeline bullshit, away from people like me that screw up everyone’s time go home.
I was in my zone. I made fun of the Bucs. I built up the guys around me. Told a few stories of how this person or that person went way above in helping me with my own job. I had forgotten how much of a rift there is between me and the skilled workers. My position, education, or just higher status makes these guys timid with me at wor For this game it was different.
The kickoff happened, and her neighbor had not shown yet. , it didn’t matter. I was enjoying the company of the moment. I made some connections with a few of the guys. Unlike them, I was drinking water. I don’t like the taste of beer.

A few minutes into the game, her neighbor shows up. Five-foot six inches, wearing a mas Covid, I know, but no one else was. At this point I just want the disease get it over with. My friend announced food was ready. So I got up off the couch, and her neighbor was first in line, so I pulled her rear belt loop move her behind .
“Hey!” She said.
“Late people don’t get served first,” I said as I started filling my plate.
“Ladies get go first.” She replied.
“Hmm, the second time that lady bullshit has been tried on me this wee A lady would have shown up on time.” I said.
“I was busy.” She said.
“I helped cook this cobbler, so I want the first piece. You are thin enough eat the whole pan.” I said.
“You did not help cook this.” She stated.
My friend chimed in. “Well, he did. Made a mess of it before it got in the oven.” She said.
“I swept it up. You shouldn’t have poked me in the ribs while I was holding a bag of flour. It was totally your fault.” I said.

My plate filled, the other guys started getting their food, as I stood there. They nodded to this woman, but none said hello. I found that very odd. They got their plates and went back into the living room to watch the game and eat. I put my plate down on the counter and got the ice cream out of the freezer for my cobbler.
I turned around…and none of the cobbler was left in the pan. None. They had not even waited for the ice cream to go with it.
The neighbor was looking at me like it was my fault. Why was she just standing there, watching them take her share? She took off her mas A very pretty face, with a rather large nose. It was the biggest nose I had ever seen on a woman. She stared at .
I went over her, scraped the side of her nose. Pretended something was on it and said. “Don’t worry, I got the booger.” I flicked it away.
Her mouth opened and nothing came out. I tapped on her upper front tooth and said. “Are these your real teeth? They look really nice.”
My friend was choking, and the guys that caught what I said, “Oh my God! She is going to his ass.”
“I gave her a compliment. Why would she my ass for that?” I yelled bac
She closed her mouth. Then asked, “What’s your name?”
“Well, my friend here calls me Mr. Sexy,” I said and pointed her way.
“She does not.” She argued.
My friend replied, “Actually, I do. I ask him every time he comes my post how he is doing, and his reply is, ’I’m very sexy.’” She laughed. “We all call him that, but his other responses are just as crazy.”
“You are full of yourself.” She said .
“Actually, I’ll be full of peach cobbler in the next ten minutes, then my body will just exude sexiness. My ass might be too hot for that couch over there. ” I said and kissed my right index finger, touched my butt with it, and made a “Hssssss” noise.
She just stands there. I placed ice cream on my plate. I returned to the living room, to see the Bucs winning. Jeeze. She stayed behind and talked and drank beer.

At half time, I brought my paper plate back to the kitchen. I looked over the pizza rolls that were still left, but nothing really appealed to me. Chips, dips, salsa, a few ribs were left. I had eaten ribs already. I threw my plate away and noticed the trash can had gotten full. So I pulled the trash. The guys were yelling in the living room and I asked my friend where I should dump the trash.
“Outback, next the gate on the left, blue bin.” My friend said. Her neighbor was just standing in the kitchen holding a beer bottle.
So I took out the trash. Not a big deal…except…the neighbor followed out the back door.
“I don’t understand you.” She says as I put the trash away.
“, 52, six-foot, and I self identify as an office chair,” I said.
“Office chair?” She asks.
“Yes, people tend sit on and fart,” I said.
She laughed at that one. “******* said she invited you over here meet me.”
“She wanted me cheer you up. Have you not been cheered? Go Chiefs!” I said and raised my arms.
“Mostly. Some of the things she says about you can’t be true.” She says.
“I don’t know what she says about me.”
“She says you sometimes dance when asked a question.”
“Did she tell you about my funny walk? How I do the Igore impression from Young Frankenstein?”
“No…she missed that one.” She laughed.
“So, do you do anything fun?” I asked.
“I know a joke..hold a second…let me think… There were these guys, no guys and they were in a Texas town.”
“Was it a big town or small?” I asked.
“I dunno. I’ve never been there.”
‘So guys walk into a bar.” I said.
“No, they walk into a Dairy Queen. Wait, fuck, that’s the punchline.” She says.
“Oh, and the town is Mexia (pronounced Muh- hei- uh)” I said.
“You know the joke.” She says.
“My mom told me that joke forty ago. How do you know my Mom?” I asked.
“I don’t know your Mom.” She says.
“Let’s find out,” I said and pulled out my cell, dialed, I placed it on speaker.
“You can’t call your Mom.” She says.
“Of course I can call my Mom…wait…Hi Mom, I have ***** here at a Superbowl watching party and she just tried tell your Mexia joke. You should have coached her better. She gave away the punchline before she explained the joke. Do you know ******?”
“I know a few people with that name. Did she live in Dallas?” Mom asks.
“No..I…only lived here in Texas. Your is crazy.” She says and grabs my wrist.
“I don’t recognize the voice, tell her the story about you guys toilet papering that girl’s house. I love that one.”
“Mom. This is serious. This woman doesn’t know how to tell your joke. Oh, and I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Love you too. Tell her the toilet paper story. Bye.” My mom says. I put away my cell.
“You’re insane!” She says.
“Are you cheered up?” I as
“Yes. I am cheered up. Jesus, I can’t believe you did that.”
The back door opens, “Are you guys coming back in or are you going look at the trash bins all night? The third quarter is starting.” my friend says. Well, the bins were rather boring look at.

“Man, the Chiefs are probably twenty ahead by now,” I said. I didn’t believe it, but if they were I’d look cool.
Fuckers. So much for looking cool. I sat down on the love seat next Bill watch the rest.
She stands in front of both of us and says, “Bill, can I sit there? You go sit on the couch.”
He looks at and I shake my head “No.” and say. “It’s a trap! Don’t do it.” Wuss. He moved.
He laughs and goes and sits on the couch. The chiefs score a field goal. I stand up and do a field goal dance. The guys laugh….Then the Bucs scored a touchdown, and four of those assholes get up and do my dance. Then all them for the next field goal for the Bucs get up and do my dance to make fun of .
I pretended sul I turned the neighbor, “I started a trend or they have a contagious dance virus.”

The game was over, and they did it again. I got up and went the kitchen as the guys were leaving. My friend’s husband came and slapped me on the back, “Man, you should come over next season and we’ll watch your ‘Boys.”
“If I can. A lot can happen between then and now.” I said.
“Can you walk her home?” My friend asks.
“Is crime really that bad around here? It’s next door, right?” I asked.
“She’s not feeling good, and I think she drank too much.” She says.
“O You can keep the ice cream. I don’t want any leftover beer either.” I said.
So I went to the neighbor who was still sitting on the loveseat. She looked green in the face.
I motioned her with my hand, she took it and got up. We walked out the front door. She took steps. Then she puked in her neighbor’s flowerbed. It was ugly. The guys were laughing as they got into their trucks, but there I was holding her hand as vomit chunks spewed from her.
Then she started crying. I could smell the vomit and it was making me queasy. I walked her to her house. There was no way I was going in at this point.
I think she only drank or four beers. I couldn’t think of anything say. I found out later that she rarely drinks at all, but she was nervous around . I made her so nervous she drank, more?
My friend did give her number. I haven’t texted her yet. I’m still thinking of what say. I’d much rather talk her, than the security guard, despite the vomit. It took five hours clean my car, and I kept thinking of her last dig at swiping her hand across the inside of my windshield. Besides, I don’t want get together with any woman from wor
I think I’ll just try not being myself this wee Let things cool down. Maybe that will wor

SilyconBond 53M
148 posts
2/8/2021 6:41 pm

I got to my friend’s house early. Too early. Anyway, thirty minutes too early. I had brought beer, Miller light and Budweiser, and vanilla ice cream.
As she is making the cobbler, we are chatting about my other relations. I hadn’t realized how much she had known about me. Her husband was there, friendly, and their friends started showing up. I realized I needed another fifty pounds around my middle to fit in. These were some pretty big boys. At least with my six-foot height, I was the tallest. Everyone seemed to be wanting the ‘Bucs to win, so of course, I chose the Chiefs. It was nice to know there were some Cowboy fans there.
I was really having a good time. Some of them worked on-site with me in the past, so I had a lot in common with a few. I just never spent time away from work with them. I love spending time with guys away from work. Away from the political correctness, away from timeline bullshit, away from people like me that screw up everyone’s time to go home.
I was in my zone. I made fun of the Bucs. I built up the guys around me. Told a few stories of how this person or that person went way above in helping me with my own job. I had forgotten how much of a rift there is between me and the skilled workers. My position, education, or just higher status makes these guys timid with me at work. For this game it was different.
The kickoff happened, and her neighbor had not shown yet. To me, it didn’t matter. I was enjoying the company of the moment. I made some connections with a few of the guys. Unlike them, I was drinking water. I don’t like the taste of beer.

A few minutes into the game, her neighbor shows up. Five-foot six inches, wearing a mask. Covid, I know, but no one else was. At this point I just want the disease to get it over with. My friend announced food was ready. So I got up off the couch, and her neighbor was first in line, so I pulled her rear belt loop to move her behind me.
“Hey!” She said.
“Late people don’t get served first,” I said as I started filling my plate.
“Ladies get to go first.” She replied.
“Hmm, the second time that lady bullshit has been tried on me this week. A lady would have shown up on time.” I said.
“I was busy.” She said.
“I helped cook this cobbler, so I want the first piece. You are thin enough to eat the whole pan.” I said.
“You did not help cook this.” She stated.
My friend chimed in. “Well, he did. Made a mess of it before it got in the oven.” She said.
“I swept it up. You shouldn’t have poked me in the ribs while I was holding a bag of flour. It was totally your fault.” I said.

My plate filled, the other guys started getting their food, as I stood there. They nodded to this woman, but none said hello. I found that very odd. They got their plates and went back into the living room to watch the game and eat. I put my plate down on the counter and got the ice cream out of the freezer for my cobbler.
I turned around…and none of the cobbler was left in the pan. None. They had not even waited for the ice cream to go with it.
The neighbor was looking at me like it was my fault. Why was she just standing there, watching them take her share? She took off her mask. A very pretty face, with a rather large nose. It was the biggest nose I had ever seen on a woman. She stared at me.
I went over to her, scraped the side of her nose. Pretended something was on it and said. “Don’t worry, I got the booger.” I flicked it away.
Her mouth opened and nothing came out. I tapped on her upper front tooth and said. “Are these your real teeth? They look really nice.”
My friend was choking, and the guys that caught what I said, “Oh my God! She is going to kick his ass.”
“I gave her a compliment. Why would she kick my ass for that?” I yelled back.
She closed her mouth. Then asked, “What’s your name?”
“Well, my friend here calls me Mr. Sexy,” I said and pointed her way.
“She does not.” She argued.
My friend replied, “Actually, I do. I ask him every time he comes to my post how he is doing, and his reply is, ’I’m very sexy.’” She laughed. “We all call him that, but his other responses are just as crazy.”
“You are full of yourself.” She said to me.
“Actually, I’ll be full of peach cobbler in the next ten minutes, then my body will just exude sexiness. My ass might be too hot for that couch over there. ” I said and kissed my right index finger, touched my butt with it, and made a “Hssssss” noise.
She just stands there. I placed ice cream on my plate. I returned to the living room, to see the Bucs winning. Jeeze. She stayed behind and talked and drank beer.

At half time, I brought my paper plate back to the kitchen. I looked over the pizza rolls that were still left, but nothing really appealed to me. Chips, dips, salsa, a few ribs were left. I had eaten two ribs already. I threw my plate away and noticed the trash can had gotten full. So I pulled the trash. The guys were yelling in the living room and I asked my friend where I should dump the trash.
“Outback, next to the gate on the left, blue bin.” My friend said. Her neighbor was just standing in the kitchen holding a beer bottle.
So I took out the trash. Not a big deal…except…the neighbor followed me out the back door.
“I don’t understand you.” She says as I put the trash away.
“Male, 52, six-foot, and I self identify as an office chair,” I said.
“Office chair?” She asks.
“Yes, people tend to sit on me and fart,” I said.
She laughed at that one. “******* said she invited you over here to meet me.”
“She wanted me to cheer you up. Have you not been cheered? Go Chiefs!” I said and raised my arms.
“Mostly. Some of the things she says about you can’t be true.” She says.
“I don’t know what she says about me.”
“She says you sometimes dance when asked a question.”
“Did she tell you about my funny walk? How I do the Igore impression from Young Frankenstein?”
“No…she missed that one.” She laughed.
“So, do you do anything fun?” I asked.
“I know a joke..hold a second…let me think… There were these two guys, no three guys and they were in a Texas town.”
“Was it a big town or small?” I asked.
“I dunno. I’ve never been there.”
‘So three guys walk into a bar.” I said.
“No, they walk into a Dairy Queen. Wait, fuck, that’s the punchline.” She says.
“Oh, and the town is Mexia (pronounced Muh- hei- uh)” I said.
“You know the joke.” She says.
“My mom told me that joke forty years ago. How do you know my Mom?” I asked.
“I don’t know your Mom.” She says.
“Let’s find out,” I said and pulled out my cell, dialed, I placed it on speaker.
“You can’t call your Mom.” She says.
“Of course I can call my Mom…wait…Hi Mom, I have ***** here at a Superbowl watching party and she just tried to tell your Mexia joke. You should have coached her better. She gave away the punchline before she explained the joke. Do you know ******?”
“I know a few people with that name. Did she live in Dallas?” Mom asks.
“No..I…only lived here in Texas. Your son is crazy.” She says and grabs my wrist.
“I don’t recognize the voice, tell her the story about you guys toilet papering that girl’s house. I love that one.”
“Mom. This is serious. This woman doesn’t know how to tell your joke. Oh, and I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Love you too. Tell her the toilet paper story. Bye.” My mom says. I put away my cell.
“You’re insane!” She says.
“Are you cheered up?” I ask.
“Yes. I am cheered up. Jesus, I can’t believe you did that.”
The back door opens, “Are you guys coming back in or are you going to look at the trash bins all night? The third quarter is starting.” my friend says. Well, the bins were rather boring to look at.

“Man, the Chiefs are probably twenty points ahead by now,” I said. I didn’t believe it, but if they were I’d look cool.
Fuckers. So much for looking cool. I sat down on the love seat next to Bill to watch the rest.
She stands in front of both of us and says, “Bill, can I sit there? You go sit on the couch.”
He looks at me and I shake my head “No.” and say. “It’s a trap! Don’t do it.” Wuss. He moved.
He laughs and goes and sits on the couch. The chiefs score a field goal. I stand up and do a field goal dance. The guys laugh….Then the Bucs scored a touchdown, and four of those assholes get up and do my dance. Then all them for the next field goal for the Bucs get up and do my dance to make fun of me.
I pretended to sulk. I turned to the neighbor, “I started a trend or they have a contagious dance virus.”

The game was over, and they did it again. I got up and went to the kitchen as the guys were leaving. My friend’s husband came and slapped me on the back, “Man, you should come over next season and we’ll watch your ‘Boys.”
“If I can. A lot can happen between then and now.” I said.
“Can you walk her home?” My friend asks.
“Is crime really that bad around here? It’s next door, right?” I asked.
“She’s not feeling good, and I think she drank too much.” She says.
“Ok. You can keep the ice cream. I don’t want any leftover beer either.” I said.
So I went to the neighbor who was still sitting on the loveseat. She looked green in the face.
I motioned her with my hand, she took it and got up. We walked out the front door. She took three steps. Then she puked in her neighbor’s flowerbed. It was ugly. The guys were laughing as they got into their trucks, but there I was holding her hand as vomit chunks spewed from her.
Then she started crying. I could smell the vomit and it was making me queasy. I walked her to her house. There was no way I was going in at this point.
I think she only drank three or four beers. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I found out later that she rarely drinks at all, but she was nervous around me. I made her so nervous she drank, more?
My friend did give me her number. I haven’t texted her yet. I’m still thinking of what to say. I’d much rather talk to her, than the security guard, despite the vomit. It took me five hours to clean my car, and I kept thinking of her last dig at me swiping her hand across the inside of my windshield. Besides, I don’t want to get together with any woman from work.
I think I’ll just try not being myself this week. Let things cool down. Maybe that will work.


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