So apparently there was some goosin' goin' on Sat. night, and I missed out on all the fun. C. Pravda thought she'd get a little of my ass action while I was ordering a drink at the bar. Finally, after I feel her sort of hovering behind me for a few minutes:
CP: Nat, was I just slapping your ass?
ME: Uhh, not that I was aware of.
CP: Oh my God! I was totally feeling and rubbing some girl's ass!
ME: (with fupa-rumbling laughter) Whose ass were you fondling!?
CP: (pointing down the bar) I think that girl's down there...
On phone tonight...
CP: Yeah, and I was wondering why her and her friends were leaning away from me in disgust.
Hah hah hah, beware the phantom gooser at Alphabet Lounge. Moments like that are so precious to me, that I want to bundle them up, put a bow around them, and tuck them into my uterus for eternity.
i know were i'm going on saturday. i'll skip the goosing and go stright to opening up gifts wrapped in little bows.
Posted by: hubs | October 05, 2004 at 06:32 PM
We're all familiar with the sensation of pretending we're goosing Nat's ass when we're goosing someone else's.
Posted by: Bether | October 07, 2004 at 12:52 AM