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September
7, 2004 – 2:15
am
Getting felt up by Ashlee Simpson
Saturday night I was at
a little bar on Sunset. It was a at a birthday party
for my friend Daags and I was pretty drunk. I pre-partied
at my place and my friend Jason and I (he drove)
went to the party. I was sitting on top of a booth,
talking to my friend Brett, when I looked down to
my left and noticed Ashlee Simpson sitting next to
me. I understand she is a pop-star and probably around
17 years old, but I’m excited.
That “Pieces of me” song gets stuck in
my head sometimes, and she looks incredible in that
video, and I watch too much MTV. But for some reason,
I’m 26, and I’m excited. But I’m
also drunk. So, I forget about it, and drunkenly keep
talking to Brett. Well, about two minutes later, it
happened. She reached her arm back and accidentally
hit me in the upper thigh, not too far from Mr. Friendly.
This got my attention. Maybe she was really forward
and fleeting with her advances. I wanted to lean down
to her and ask her softly to sing the chorus of “Pieces
of Me” in my ear. (She does say the word “Pieces” better
than any of the pop-stars.) But instead I just mumbled “Mo
Problem” or something like that. She clearly
felt bad for hitting me, which was nice of her, so
she then kind of caressed my leg, while saying “I’m
sorry.” It was a lot lower this time, and in
a “I’m sorry you fell down Grandpa” kind
of way, but I appreciated it just the same.
Soon after, she got up. And she actually turned to
my friend Brett and told him to call her, or asked
him to meet up at another bar later, or something.
Remember I’m very drunk at this point. But I
know that she DID NOT then turn to me and say, “I
found rubbing your leg to be wonderful.”
That I would have remembered.
My friend dropped me off
at the post-party at Daags house, but I guess I was
early cause no one was there yet. But the door was
open, so I went in, played the drums a little with
one stick, then stumbled out of the house to the
corner gas station where you gotta point like an
idiot at the items you want from the mini-mart, and
then exchange food and money under the glass food/money
pass lever thing, like I’m in
jail. Or like I’m going to visit Hannibal Lecter.
Well, I proceed to buy and eat three sandwiches in
a row. Turkey, then Egg, then Tuna, and I called Scotty
to come pick me up. I actually text messaged him. I
know cause the tiny letters were blurry and the texting
was difficult. It’s a rare occasion, but you
gotta get that drunk sometimes. Just for the stories.
And my story ends there.
This entry was brought to you by Spandex.
Decks for Spanish people.
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