Girls with foot fetishes hook up
[redacted] and [redacted], I'll be expecting your short film script of this in my inbox in the next couple of weeks...Wednesday, June 1st, 2011: Get a BBM at 8 in the morning from my friend [redacted] telling me we're going to a party in "the Hills" that night because the Yankees were in town. ) However, after being told to grow a pair, I decided to join the girls after work for this fiesta.I go back to texting in the corner while stuffing my face with a hot dog. Shouldn't you wait for someone else to say that? As are my four friends, who are all looking at me as if I have grown a second head.In the meantime, here is the glorious unverified story. Not that there's any shame in getting your toes sucked!]Friendsicles, You are either getting this e-mail because I've promised I would tellyou this story and haven't yet, you're besties with someone I used to hook up with, or because my need for attention and adulation has reached such an all time high that I decided to pick 15 of you at random to listen to this story (most likely explanation), but all the same, below is the (in)famous but true story of how I met Quentin Tarantino...I spend my first hour at this party irritated at having to even be there, and then telling the Yankees picture Joba Chamberlain how he'll never be as great as my beloved Brian Wilson. I don't think anyone has said that to my face about my seminal films.I think he may have called me a lesbian as I was walking away, but I guess you can't blame him since I did choose to wear pants. Heading back inside, bored out of mind, I look over and notice Jamie Foxx and Quentin Tarantino have joined the melee. Two more people at this party who could not give a shit about who I am. Me: Perhaps it's because you call them your seminal films. At this point, QT puts an arm around me and I'm acutely aware that Quentin Tarantino has an arm around me.
But this party now presents a conundrum as a) I didn't know people partied on Wednesdays because I'm uncool and b) I had just run out of clean underwear and hadn't shaved my legs in three days, so I wasn't really in a "party" sort of place. Party time rolls around that evening and despite being a Wednesday, and based on how many trashy girls in short dresses there are, it looks like the inside of any club in Las Vegas has vomited inside this music producer's home.Minus all the hordes of Asians you get in real Las Vegas.