J.R.'s Weekend: The Sesquipedalis Version

This entry is my version of how J.R. should tell his life's story. I'll be writing them as if I were him. I've taken a few liberties with his story to "fill in the blanks"

A couple of weeks ago I met this super cute girl Misty through a mutual friend of ours, Chris. We were all hanging out at a bar one night and her and I hit it off pretty well. We had a little back and forth going that night, and she immediately told me that she wanted to be number one on my myspace.

This was a tough one because, as anyone who knows me will attest, I've got about as much ability to say no to a cute girl as Eddie Murphy does for turning down a crappy movie roll. For once I played it pretty cool and did the hard to get bit with her. She's a nice girl, but like Jenna Jameson and Hulk Hogan both learned early on in their careers, if you wanna finish on top, you gotta work for it. The same rules apply to my myspace.

Eventually, after a little prodding, I bumped her up to #1. I pretended that I forgot about it, but between you and me you don't catch a fish by immediately jerking it into the boat. You gotta slowly reel it in. Within a week or two the myspace comments and messages were rolling in. I was looking for an opening since I only sort of knew her, and if anything she was still Chris's friend more than mine.

I bided my time until suddenly things fell in to place. One weekend she asked if I wanted to go hang out with her and bunch of friends. I had a talk with Chris, and he said he's not interested and gave me the bro thumb's up. Alcohol, flirting, and a green light from the closest competition... Even Jesse, my very handsome and awesome friend(seriously ladies, ask him to be your myspace friend) couldn't screw this one up... or so I thought.

The night started off well enough. I met everyone, and everything looked good. I had just started talking to her and was having an inner monologue argument with myself over what kind of eggs I should make her in the morning when Chris arrived. That's when the night took a toilet bowl swirl in the wrong direction. Misty was all over him like Britney Spears on the last doughnut at a Circle K.

That's when reality sunk in. Had I been a decoy? Was I the stool pigeon this entire time? A couple of drinks later it didn't really matter.

I actually ended up having a pretty good night, but it wasn't at all what I had dreamed up. At the end of the day I guess it's better to have E-Flirted and gone home alone than to have never E-flirted at all.