Here's the deal. Michael Phelps just tore up the swimming pool, getting his third medal, which, like my main man Dale said is a lot. And here he is swimming and all that, and I think to myself, I need to get Misty into a hot tub.
So here's my first date with Misty.
I tell her I'm gonna pick her up at about a quarter to eight, and then I show up thirty minutes late. Here's why. Women love that shit. It's mystery, irresponsibility, and sexiness all in one.
So I ring the doorbell. She comes to the door looking like an angel straight from albatross island. She's wearing a bikini and a feather boa. I say, "You look like the new hotness." She says, "You look good enough to spike." I hand her a box of melted chocolates that I bought earlier in the day, and like a total motherfucker left in the hot car all fuckin' day. I tell her Dale, my motherfuck of a roommate, melted them. It makes no sense, but she laughs.
So I say, "Let's get some fuckin' food." We go to McDonald's and I pay for it. Then I say, "Look, let's go chillax in a hot tub." She says okay.
First we go to a wal-mart and steal a garden hose. I stuff that shit down my pants and even though there's a huge bulge nobody says nothin' cuz I got the GOODS, you know? Then we break into a pool store. I learned how to break a window all ninja-silent back in Boy Skowtz. So it takes me twenty fuckin' minutes to find a place to screw the hose in, weird cuz it's a FUCKIN POOL STORE, right? Finally I duct-tape the thing to the bathroom faucet. It takes about two and half hours to fill this hot tub up, but that's cool. Misty and I talk and get to know one another. She explains the physics of a well-placed bump, and I tell her about the time I got my hand stuck in a vending machine.
The hot tub is finally full, so we get in. It's hot as a son of a bitch, but I cool it down with some ice cubes I find in the backroom refrigerator. I light a candle. It smells of victory lavender, which is a combination of lavender, volleyballs, and sand. We laugh and I tell some crude, somewhat sexist jokes Dale taught me. She laughs cuz she's a slick-rigged motherfucker.
We stay in the hot tub till we're pruny as a couple pugs. I ask her if she wants to get some late night coffee and shit, and she says, "Well I need to get home to my husband."
I tell her that's cool, but before you go I have a poem. She acts all shy and shit, you the way women get when you're about to do something cute. I read it to her. It says this: "I used to think volleyball was a bunch of shit, but then I saw Misty hit- that ball straight to the ground, round and round after motherfuckin' round.- Her ass is a lustrous moon, my eyes are two staring stars- the way she hits a volleyball makes me want to steal cars- like DMX the rapper, who has a lot of money but steals anyways. Misty May-Treanor, you are one fine fox."
Then I drop her off and head home. I tell Dale all about. I think he's jealous, but fuck it, you know? Who ain't.
I ask him if he minds. He says he doesn't mind, but I can tell he kind of minds, but I'm going to do it anyway.
Only a total gay would stay loyal to a friend when Misty May-Treanor's ass is up for grabs.
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