Tickle My Kittens

How would you like it if someone replaced your toothpaste with a similarly shaped tube of Preparation H? Sure, it might tighten up those saggy gums a little, but at the end of the day you’re going to be pissed off because you didn’t get what you were expecting. That’s essentially what happened to me this weekend when I discovered that DC cash machines have started dishing out $50 bills.

We all depend on continuity and my ATM routine is simple. Insert card, enter PIN, navigate through menu, and insert cash into the back of the wallet. Because I keep my bills sorted with the smallest denominations first, this seemingly chaotic transaction actually maintains perfect order. My technique has evolved mostly because I like to avoid fumbling with a stack of 20s as I organize my wallet in public, but an ancillary benefit is that it’s very easy to grab bills from the front (valet tip) or back (taxi) without much thought.

It was this back-of-wallet cash grab that got me into trouble, and you can probably guess what happened. It was getting very late in the evening. A group of friends convinced me to join them on the other side of town for one more drink. On the way I discovered that my funds were running low, so I had the driver stop at a bank to refill the coffers. There were two suspicious guys in line behind me, and while I was catching glances of them out of the corner of my eye and imagining counter moves to the assault that never came, the ATM was silently counting out 50s. The trap had been set.

I should have realized what was happening the first time. The taxi pulled up outside of the bar and I decided to be a little generous and round up to $20 on a $15 fare. “No change, thanks” I said as I handed him what was actually a 230% tip. He shouted his appreciation as I walked into the bar feeling very good with myself. After my ride home, the second time wasn’t as obvious. It wasn’t until the next day that I caught myself doing it a third time in full daylight.

Yes, I wasted $60, but the biggest casualty in this whole fiasco is that I’m going to have to totally rethink my wallet algorithm. And if you think that I’m ever going to be able to casually tip a bellboy without breaking eye contact, you have another thing coming. My only consolation is that over-tipping a taxi driver is actually one of the better outcomes in a situation that involves fumbling around in the dark back seat of a car after a few drinks.

BREAKING NEWS

Barry “Bail” Bonds has been indicted on five counts of perjury and obstruction of justice stemming from his 2003 grand jury testimony about illegal steroid use.

“Bail” Bonds Nickname © 2007, Tickle My Kittens

Now that I’ve copyrighted this new nickname and its derivations, I can use it in jokes without worry of them being picked up by Sports Center. For example:

It’s a sad day when Barry Bonds is on the juice, and “The Juice” is being held without bond.

No? Ok, I’ll keep brainstorming.

I got married this summer surrounded and supported by friends and family, all whom I love dearly. I realize now that it was a terrible mistake.

Not getting married. It will probably be years before the ghosts of what could have been will start haunting me. I’m talking about inviting my friends to a wedding where alcohol was served liberally and my female relatives felt safe. I should have kept them separate. I should have eloped.

It all happened that fateful Saturday evening in June. Drunken Astronaut, fellow TMK blogger and confirmed sexual deviant, had a belly full of wine and a glint in his eye that would make any father subconsciously shudder. He was looking for a victim, and he found my cousin.

He started slowly at first, methodically testing her defenses. A casual joke followed by a deliberate brush of the elbow. A round of drinks for everybody. Another joke. Slow dancing. Another beer. There was no need to rush this time. She had nowhere to go.

By the end of the evening she was his. Her pale, expressionless face said everything as they boarded the shuttle to leave. It was inevitable. Once they got to the hotel, he proceeded to defile her in one of the most filthy and uncomfortable places imaginable - the stairwell of a Holiday Inn.

Ever since the cancellation of Arrested Development, I’ve argued that the best show on American TV is The Office. I do remember a brief period after the American version came out when I thought that it just didn’t live up to its British older brother, but the new show was so funny that I quickly stopped making comparisons.

Well, my friends at Netflix recently hooked me up with the British version of The Office on DVD, and it’s blowing my mind again. I was also able to locate a few scenes where the scripts were similar enough to make a solid comparison between the two versions.

First, let’s start with the American version. A consultant comes into the office to address diversity in the workplace, and the boss competes for attention and control of the meeting. Hit play on the following clip and then drag the slider to the beginning of the scene at 3:30 (it counts backwards).

Terrifically funny stuff, but it pales in comparison with its British counterpart.

[UPDATE] I just heard that Ricky Gervais (boss in British Office) won the best comedy actor Emmy last night for his performance in Extras. Apparently I’m so hip that even when I dredge up a four-year-old subject it’s topical.

For those of you following at home, this is part three in my Missed Connections series. If you don’t know what’s going on, I highly recommend that you read part 1 and part 2. The main idea is that I posted a fake missed connection on Craig’s list as a woman, and several guys responded.

The results from the comments were counted last Tuesday, and it was clear from reader feedback that I should contact all five suitors to see who was really interested. So, I created a fake gmail account and started emailing. I didn’t get too detailed in my responses, just enough to get them to write back.

As of today (one week later), three have responded. I still haven’t decided where to go with this whole thing, but I do know that carrying on a dialog with three different guys and reporting the results here is going to be too confusing. That means we need to decide who gets to be the sole focus of our efforts. Here are the emails:

Bachelor #1,

Sorry for not getting back to you sooner. Aparently gmail took all of the Craig’s List stuff and put it in my spam folder. If it was actually you, then apology accepted

Lacy

and his reply was

Did you ever find your MC? Seeing a posting that even /could/ be oneself is a pretty big lift. I imagine finding each other must be doubly sweet!

Not too bad. Still in the flirty stage, but there’s certainly potential here. Let’s see what his competition had to say.

.

Bachelor #3,

Ok, that’s just silly. Where’s the subtlety? On the other hand, you’re only one of a few guys I’m writing back. I have to admit, you have piqued my interest. Was it really you?

-Lacy

P.S. Sorry for not getting back to you sooner. Apparently gmail took all of the Craig’s List stuff and put it in my spam folder.

his reply:

I wish it was me, but couldn’t a guy dream? Although, what caught your interest my love?

Are you serious? Talk about a change of tone, considering his first email was, “yep, just me getting off on your breasts.” We may have a reformed bad boy on our hands. Pretty good so far. Let’s see what our resident poet had to say.

.

Bachelor #5,

All that for little ol’ me? I have to admit I’m a little flattered.

-Lacy

P.S. Sorry for not getting back to you sooner. Apparently gmail took all of the Craig’s List stuff and put it in my spam folder

his reply:

I am flattered Ms. Fitzpatrick that you actually replied to my e-mail. If only I were one ounce of air that swirls around your heavenly presence. I would not leave; even for a second. Just to be around such angelic beauty would complete my entire existence. I apologize for beaming into your luscious body in public, but I was fixated on utter perfection. I wish I could breath in your sensuous charms for hours. What could a man like me possibly do for your pleasure?

Solid. I had high hopes for this guy, and he did not disappoint. But, was he good enough to be our main squeeze? Comments are open for voting.

For the full story of what’s going on here please read part 1, but here’s a quick summary:

Drunken Astronaut wrote a post about zoning out on the metro while accidentally staring at a woman’s breasts. I wrote a Craig’s List missed connection add about it as a joke, pretending that I was the woman. Various men across the district have been responding to my add over the past few days.

So, now that you’re up to speed, this is what we’re going to do. I’ve selected five of my favorite suitors, and I’m going to post their responses here along with my analysis. Then it’s up to you, our readers, to decide whom I email back to see if it really was a missed connection. Ready? Allow me to introduce…

.

Bachelor #1

I was on the red line yesterday, tall and lanky, listening to my iPod and, embarrassed to say, spacing out whilst staring at breasts. I offer apologies and/or compliments as appropriate.

Oh, bachelor #1, you sweet talker. I’m only including you in the competition to give an example of what the vast majority of the responses sounded like. Next.

.

Bachelor #2

This could have been me…..when did this happen?….I i did similar, but might have been the orange line…..let me know…..if it was you…you said something to me, but i had my ipod….volume too far up. Were you with anyone? I can describe them if need be.

Now this is more like it. Just think about what happened here. A girl was sitting there with her boyfriend and the guy across from them started staring at her boobs. She then called him out, and he just ignored her. Awesome.

.

Bachelor #3

yep, just me getting off on your breasts

Ok, dude, where’s the subtlety? That’s just dirty.

.

Bachelor #4

That could easily have been me, but you probably described half a million incidents today. Fwiw, I was on red line about 8:15 this morning from F Hts to downtown, you were already on, I was standing in center aisle, you were sitting & got off at Dupont or Farragut. If that was you (could you confirm - what was one of us wearing or which side were you sitting on?), I apologize profusely for my rudeness; I couldn’t help but look at such a pleasant view is my only excuse.

Wow, that’s a very detailed account of… what’s that? Another email from you?

ps - regardless of whether your posting was actually about you and me, it came as a rude awakening and I was very embarrassed to read it. I’m happily married, and a geeky sort of guy who would not do anything contrary to that state. I can’t help looking around when I am on the metro, and I can’t help noticing an attractive woman. But I’m very sorry to have stared, and next time I will fight that urge.

Look, your second email cleared up nothing. If anything it complicated the plot and propelled you from awkward to creepy.

.

Bachelor #5

It was hard not to stare. You were stunning! Any man with intelligence would relish in your beauty. Words escape me when I think about your taut frame and your soft mannerisms. Languishing over your beautiful features was the highlight of my day. Say yes?

Your words are a silk bed sheet, and I will respond in kind. I find it unfathomable that a girl could rebuff a man of your obvious verbosity.

.

So, there you have it. Who should get the follow up email? The phone lines are open!

Ok, this is just too funny not to share with our literally tens of readers.

In his inaugural post yesterday, Drunken Astronaut talked about his experience with a new set of noise canceling headphones. They made him feel so removed from the world in front of him that he, among other things, found himself staring at a woman’s breasts on the metro like they were on television.

So, to be silly, I posted a fake missed connection on Craig’s List entitled “Eyes up here, buddy - w4m - 28″.

You: Tall, lanky guy listening to iPod, staring at my breasts with a dazed look on your face.

Me: Slightly offended, slightly flattered.

Did we have a missed connection or were you the only one getting off on the red line?

Finally, I wrote a comment on his post and included a link to the Craig’s List page, pretending like she had posted that first. Ha ha, very funny. I chuckled to myself as I am inclined to do when I waste 15 minutes on something dumb.

And that was it… or so I thought.

I completely forgot that people might actually reply to my Missed Connection add. As I write this post, the emails are still pouring in from guys who admit that they were blatantly staring at a pair of breasts on the metro yesterday. This is appalling and fantastic at the same time.

At this point I think the best thing to do is to wait for the replies to stop coming in and then post the best ones here.

I’ll keep this short so the other new faces around here can introduce/defend themselves, but Bad at Life’s last post got me thinking:

Scott used to be a lot of fun, but he’s married now (despite that aforementioned crippling fear of commitment) so I’m worried that this site will become something of an “outlet” for him. In the future, we’ll probably hear him wondering aloud about women’s underwear and whether there’s “something really cool going on that he doesn’t even know about”.

Yes, I realize that he was quoting Frank the Tank, and as the latest guy to get married out of a particularly rowdy group of friends, I know I’ll have a fair amount of good natured ribbing to contend with. It did get me thinking, though. What if there is something new out there that I just haven’t seen?

Admittedly, I have been out of the game for a while. Like the entire decade. And think of all of the technological advances that have been made since 2000. We’re talking WiFi, reality television, and white strips. I decided to consult the internet for more information.

As it turns out, pantie production isn’t advancing at the breakneck speeds I had suspected. There has been some minor innovation in the area of beads and metal but certainly nothing worth writing home about. What I did discover, however, shocked me to the core. The developments in men’s undergarments have been absolutely mind blowing.

Take, for instance, this underwear that is infused with vitamin C. Based on a similar technology as the nicotine patch, these skivvies fight scurvy while you’re wearing them. Or these ultra stretchy boxer-briefs. I’m not exactly sure what I’d do with them, but I bet NASA does.

So laugh all you want, BAL. You may be single and experiencing all of the new, exciting unders out there, but this married guy has discovered a way to absorb nutrients through his crotch.

It’s time to start a blog. I’ve been watching from the sidelines for too long and have a few things to say. Admittedly, I have written a guest post once, but that doesn’t count. That’s like going to a zoo and pointing at the animals from behind the safety of metal bars. This time the panda’s coming home.

I know that blogs start to suck when they’re only updated every few weeks. I also know that my crippling fear of commitment has prevented me from starting anything remotely similar to this.

The solution? Teamwork. There’s no chance that I’m doing this alone. Much like my romantic life, I prefer to share this intercourse with multiple people and in front of a large audience. Care to join me?