Thread for Oh Shit Index | New Thread | Reply | Close | Stick | Delete  Oh Shit Tippyx 8:27pm, August 31, 2006 [Edit] [Delete] i posted in New Mobility on macushla's thread entitled Friday Night Quiz that lately i made some new friends. they're couples and a couple of single women. we all met via my very good friend, whom i've known since i was 11 years old. one of the single girls i met at an outing to the Hollywood Bowl. my friend jimmy drove, so 6 of us were piled into jimmy's suburban. i'll call ms. single girl ms. E. she was subject to me being assisted in and out of the suburban. observed the 'dis'. we all had a picnic and great wine before the concert, and ms. E. sat by me everywhere we went. we hit it off. laughing, drinking wine, cajoling, doing that 'touching' each other on the arm to accentuate a point stuff. big hug at the end of the evening. right on. oh yeah, she's about 5'10", blonde, great figure, with an attractive face. she just moved from petaluma to Venice - a place she's wanted to live all her life. jimmy just had a party this past sunday afternoon. he called me up leaving a message saying, 'tippy, we're having an impromptu party here today. i'll come and get you. call me.' well, the night before i bought some becks beer and with a vicodin or 2, watched the dodgers game, the movie 'two for the money', then one of my favorite already-been-seens 'collateral'. i was out on my balconey checking the moon over the ocean. i checked the clock and it was 4:30 a.m. needless to say sunday i was torched. i kept hearing jimmy's phone messages,'tommy, c'mon baby, party's goin on, c'mon dude, pick-up.' i'd just roll over and pull the covers over my head. i called jimmy monday morning to get the results of the party. he told me all the people i had recently met were there. he told me they were asking, 'where's tom? is he going to show?', including ms. E. now just him telling me that made me feel like a million bucks. 'cool', i thought... new fun friends. you see, for the last 8 months things have been a little tuff, a little ruff. health, wealth and happiness went to hell. old friends (females) turned triple bitch on me. some family members decided - since my luck had turned bad - to pile on and get high n mighty. i've been weathering the storm, holding on. just recently, as in the last two weeks, things turned around. two days ago my financial status jump started again and i'm back in the game. this morning, i'm sitting at my dining area table, drinking coffee to register a pulse and the phone rings. i can hear a female voice on the answering machine. i hafta have two cups of coffee just to form a thought. i go into my bedroom and listen to my messages. it's ms. E. she wants to hook-up, left her phone number and said, 'call me.' Oh Shit! Edited 1:19am, September 04, 2006 by Tippyx, author.   Edzz 10:40pm, August 31, 2006 [Edit] [Delete] *insert cheap cheesey music soundtrack here* Boom chicka boom boom. Boom chicka boom boom boom. Boom chicka boom boom. Boom chicka boom boom boom.   Tippyx 2:00am, September 03, 2006 [Edit] [Delete] so later that evening, like a young child who makes a fort out of overturned chairs, table, cushions, pillows and sheets, i surrounded my phone with my whiskey, whiskey glass, beer, music, cleaned off table and a purpose.   Tippyx 3:52am, September 03, 2006 [Edit] [Delete] i called her.   Tippyx 6:16am, September 04, 2006 [Edit] [Delete] so. she answers the phone and says, 'hi'. 'hi ms. E. it's tippy. how're you doing?' ms. E and i decide to hook up the next morning for breakfast at http://www.waterfrontcafe.com/images/logo.jpg i set my alarm for 5:00 a.m. her and i having previously spoken the evening before planned on a 9:00 a.m. breakfast hook-up time. she'd walk down from her new Venice house, and i'd roll down from my apartment and we'd go from there. right on. i wanted to wake up early enough to get it together, have some coffee, play music and have CNN on to hear what on earth was going on. the reggae i had playing was the auditory stimulous; the CNN was the visual. i don't know about you but the labor day weekend weather was/is fantastic. funny enough, my father showed up at 8:30 a.m. i was in the bathroom shaving. bunny wailer, an incredible reggae allstar was going off on my stereo. the sun was pouring in every window. i somehow heard something, a voice. a voice loud and distinct. it was my dad. he comes in the front door and i hear,'hey!' now my parents have a key to my apartment in case of emergencies. they give a knock, a pause then open my front door an inch or two and give out a, 'son...son it's mom and dad. can we come in?' now if i'm with a girl and she's spread wearing 7 inch high heels with our fresh bloody marys nearly finished and i'm either going down on her pussy or down on her sweet ass, hey, the ominous is on my parents. besides, they know enough to bang about the place so if i'm bloody mary celery sticked, ass faced and the girl is pleasure driven oriface open and incoherent till wednesday, then everyone -except the high heeled, bloody mary'd, early morning sundrenched cum drunk ass eaten happy girl - has time enough to find something to do, whether it's the CNN on t.v., the Los Angeles Times newspaper, or the fresh pot of coffee and ocean view. happy spread girl can lolli-gag and roll around till she can come to her senses. this wasn't the case as i was preparing to meet ms. E. for breakfast. my dad had his safari hat on, electric sander with orange extention power cord, 3 grades of sand paper, a new can of wood surface Thompsons waterseal, and a bag of rags. he was going to sand, resurface and waterseal the wooden coffee table i have on my balconey. a coffee table sturdy enough, and high enough to support and present the weight of a woman. my dad and i had talked about him coming over and resurfacing the table earlier that week so it wasn't as if he was showing up out of the blue. he poured some of my coffee while making comments about iran's latest political posturing. it's funny because my dad's 70, a retired steel mill maintenance engineer foreman, but he likes my reggae. he does this irish/reggae bouncing around in tune with the reggae music. he enjoys it. i left to go have breakfast with ms. E.   Tippyx 11:04pm, September 06, 2006 [Edit] [Delete] i made my way down to the venice beachfront walkway. i had been watching fuel tv and the video of the guy in the chair in the skatepark. so i went pushing, gliding, do little turns, having fun. at 9 a.m. on the beachfront vendors are just opening and there's no massive crowds. very good looking girls. i'm hanging out incognito, watching the ocean, vendors and the talent. i'm on the corner of rose ave. and beachfront walk, the designated meeting place ms. E. and i had agreed on. i'm waiting about 10 minutes and here comes ms. E. 'hi,' i say. she says, 'hi. i ended up driving down,' and gives me a kiss and a hug. we were going to meet at the firehouse cafe on rose and main st., but it's a little tricky for me to push there solo. so, we met on the beach. with a little discussion, ms. E. said she'd like to go to the waterfront cafe just 30 feet away. she picks a table outside. now from experience, i know the outside tables don't let me get close enough to really enjoy my meal. the food and drink are a little too far away. but hey, i'm with ms. E. she wants to sit outside so what the hell. trying to eat and drink was possible but uncomfortable. we're talking easily but i'm thinking, 'she told me on the phone she was going to walk down. if i knew she was driving, i'd have given her my parking pass and she could have parked in front of my apartment. we could be at the firehouse cafe right now, at a most comfortable table, drinking delicious bloody marys. but no. i'm here squished at this shitty table, doing a balancing act while trying to act natural and not fall face first into my just barely reachable huevos rancheros....' at least the excellent german erdinger beer was incredible. she loved it - she was part german. 'o.k., enough...i can't take trying to eat anymore because the balance required is killin me,' i thought. the waiter takes our plates away. it's been about an hour and i suggest we move into the shade. we move to a small table i can sit parallel to, since i'll just be drinking. FINALLY i can fully get at my beer. PRAISE JESUS! i down that erdinger like i'd been out in the desert for just over an hour. then, it's 11:30 and she has to leave. she had told me this the night before. she's working on a documentary film and her editor was available at 11:30. i thought good. if things go well, 2 and 1/2 hours is fine. if they go bad, 2 and a 1/2 hours is bearable. she wanted to see where i lived so we went back my way, chatting all the while. once there, she's,'wow, you live here? it's on the beach, so close. this is nice.' 'duh,' i thought. 'o.k., ms. E., thanks. next time wine...my place or yours.' 'yes,' she says, 'i'm having a party on the 16th...please come tippy.' a hug, and off she went. upstairs, my dad, sanding the coffee table asked, 'how'd it go?' i got a beer out of the fridge, drank half and said, 'she's much bigger and less intelligent than i thought she was after 3 bottles of wine at our first meeting 2 weeks ago.' my dad responded, 'catch and release, son?' 'yes dad, definately catch and release.' i turned the reggae back on, finished my beer, and my dad and i started bouncing around to the music again.   Nicko 12:00am, September 07, 2006 [Edit] [Delete] Sorry she didn't leave you breathless and counting the moments til your next encounter. I'd love to hear more about this 'dad' character though. I like him. Index | New Thread | Reply | Close | Stick | Delete