Day One In

Written by: Alex Sandell

Following the lead of the girl who came all the way from Finland to spend New Year's Eve with me, comes the girl who came all the way from Canada to spend 4 days in a motel. I was thinking we should try some holiday, to keep up tradition (and possibly come up with a better title), but I don't think she really wanted to risk it, after seeing what a blast my New Year's was.

She took a day off of her corporate job (which, in Canada, is technically a "holiday"), so we could be together from Friday to Monday night. As always, I documented the whole affair in my tidy little "soon-to-be-a-major-motion-update" journal. Enjoy!

June 19th, 1998. Day number one.
9:07 PM: Unfortunately, Miss C. Heart (name changed so as not to confuse her with someone who may actually care) decided it would be better if we met at the motel, rather than the airport. We meet at a place called "AmeriSuites" (her choice), which was odd, being that she's Canadian. I take the elevator to the fourth floor, and begin walking the endless hallway to her room.

9:27 PM: The artificially cooled climate sends shivers down my spine, as I approach the door.

9:28 PM: With my first knock I start wondering if people whose life ambition is to see how many powersuits they can acquire may have violent tendencies. As I'm about to turn and run, the door swings open. "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" Miss C. Heart screams, with a grin on her face that's as big as the crack of a horse's ass. "Um, hi," I say, as I imagine a $4,000.00 laptop computer permanently wedged into my forehead.

9:28.5 PM: Awkward silence.

9:29 PM: "C'mon," I tell myself, "I'm that 'crazy' Juicy Cerebellum guy. I've gotta think of something funny to say." I begin speaking. "Um, that would be funny if since you're from Canada this place was called CanadaSuites."

9:29.5 PM: Dead silence.

9:30 PM: Miss C. Heart asks if I want to see her computer as she skips across the room in a cheery manner similar to a real life Pollyanna. She swings the expensive laptop my way, and looks slightly confused when I cringe. Stupid computer.

9:31 PM: She shows me her technological marvel. Great, that's just what I left the house to see . . . another computer. After I marvel over the same setup I've seen day after day, only in a more compact version, she decides to play me a CD. Wow! This thing even has speakers! She throws in some "Much Music" mixed compact disc, and presses play.

10:04 PM: There is a Hell.

10:05 PM: She dances around and touches me a whole bunch. That's all I can say, since I never kiss and tell.

10:47 PM: She puts on skimpy little sweat pants. Her nipples are like erasers. So is my dick. Wait, um, let me rephrase that. Her nipples are like erasers. My dick's like the Eiffel Tower.

10:48 PM: I decide to show her my photo album. Not because it's a fun thing to do, but to prove I usually don't have the two zits which currently rest on my right cheek. After pulling it out (hehe), I remember there's some "not-fully-dressed" pictures of previous girlfriends that I've had. I run to the bathroom and remove them. She asks what I'm doing. I pretend I'm having diarrhea. I spend the next 7 minutes doing my best "wet-fart" imitation with my mouth.

11:05 PM: I notice her lying under the covers. "I'm cold," she declares. In that case, why is she naked?

Go to day two

1998 Alex Sandell [all rights reserved]. If you copy this, I'm going to drive a laptop computer through your update-robbing skull.

Back to the table of brains 1998

Back to the mind-map.