evany's extended cake mix
(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)
get the latest
get into my head from twitter:
Wednesday, Nov. 12, 2003 | link
You're at a dinner party and conversation turns, as it does, to everyone's experiences in the menage a trois realm. And you, drunk in that particularly expansive, red-wine way, lean forward in your chair and yell, "What the HELL! I've never been invited to join a three-way! What's a girl got to do," you throw your arms wide, like hey-it's-show-time, "to get invited to a three-way?"
Later, after you're very, very drunk and you've bobbed and weaved your way home to spend ten happy minutes dancing up and down with yourself on your bed to the musical stylings of Wham!, you stop abruptly and race into the bathroom to stand over the toilet and do some serious thinking about whether or not you're going to throw up.
"Not" wins, but only just. Gingerly you lower yourself into a pair of dice-covered pajamas and crawl into bed. And then the phone rings.
"Hey! Where are you!"
"Home. In bed!"
"You should totally come back to the party! There's just the two of us here!"
"I'm in my pajamas!"
"Just throw a coat over them and come over."
"Oh no. No. I feel totally barftastic."
"Oh come on. Just come over!"
"Dude, what? No way. I can't! I'll call you guys tomorrow. Breakfast maybe."
And then you press "END" and let the phone drop where it may. About five minutes later, the phone rings again, but you don't answer it because, what the hell?, you just told them you were IN YOUR PAJAMAS ALREADY!
When the phone rings again ten minutes later, you lean over to the wall and unplug it. Then slowly, finally you fall into a horrible, sweaty, red-wine sleep, which lasts until six AM, when you sit bolt upright in bed with one, loud thought, "Oh shit!"
And that, THAT is why you'll never be in a three-way. Which is probably for the best -- I think I'm too easily confused for theesomes.