Mia: Shaken Not Stirred

The true life stories of a NYC female.

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

A Drooly Stolen Kiss

L-R: Reina, Magz,and Angie

A group of us went out on Saturday night to celebrate the end of the term. Btw if you’ve never had mojitos please by all means treat yourself to one a few. Just watch it ‘cause they tend to sneak up on you.

I am happy to report that even though our group consumed a lot of hooch there was no burning fingers, street puking or tucking and rolling like last time. However there was a drooly stolen kiss…

The time had come to go home and I went outside while the others got themselves together the lounge was hot and crowded I needed some air. I was standing outside in a slightly drunk buzzed state enjoying the late night breeze when this drunk guy approached me and started hitting on me. He spoke to me in thick slurred Dominican accented Spanish which I had a hard time understanding and no it wasn’t because I was drunk buzzed, so stop arching your eyebrow at me. It’s just that I’ve always have had a hard time with Dominican accents especially when the person is drunk and I am drunk buzzed. That just complicates things.

Not wanting to be rude I told him I was waiting for my girlfriend thinking he’d move on. Nope it didn’t buy the gay ploy; it must have been used on him before. He continued to hit on me. Just then the phone rang it was my friends; the block was so crowded they couldn’t see me. I gave them a landmark and jokingly told them to hurry up before I beat the drunken man down with my cell phone. For the next few minutes which by the way can seem like an eternity when you’re being hit on by a drunken guy, he was my weaving body guard. Seeing my friends approach I gave him a small goodbye wave and started to walk towards them. Just then the drunken guy leaned in said something I couldn’t make out and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, depositing quite a decent amount of drool on my face. Thank God for there were people nearby to save me otherwise I might have drowned in it. My reaction was a startled one I didn’t know whether to kick in the shins or laugh. In the end I had to laugh wiping my cheek with the sleeve of my hoody.

Sunday afternoon Reina insisted on interrupting my hangover movie to ask if I was still drunk… Attention Reina I was not drunk. I didn’t sing Winnie The Pooh did I? No I didn’t. That means I was not drunk, tipsy perhaps but not drunk. Everyone knows I sing Winnie The Pooh when I’ve had a wee too much to drink and there was no “Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh Tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff. He's Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh Willy nilly silly ole bear” coming outta my mouth and if memory serves me right I didn’t call out “Ohhh Christopher Robin” to any of waiters in order to get their attention.

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