Let me bring you back to last Tuesday. You can probably guess that I spent the night at my favorite weekly hangout…Bingo!
It was the week after my regretful defeat, and I set out to attend bingo not to win, but to drown my sorrows in copious amounts of beer. We grabbed our table and without even asking for anything, our waiter promptly brought us over a coke and a grasshopper. We looked at him with this “OMG! WE HAVE A USUAL” face. It was an incredible moment. I’ve always wanted to be a usual patron somewhere with a usual drink…and now I’m that person!
Bingo proceeded as usual, however, this week I wasn’t as focused as I usual am…mostly because ever time I looked up at the prize shelf, there was no Jenga in sight. Then, in round 2, after a few too many, I looked down at my bingo card and then looked at Kate, and in great confusion said, “hrmm, I think I have a bingo?!!”.
I got a fucking bingo, and guess what, there was no beautiful man yelling bingo at the exact same time. There was no rock paper scissors. No ugly defeat. I’d won. But this is just my fucking luck; I’m a solid winner and the only prize I wanted was ripped away from me in a terrible blood bath. I scanned the prizes for a while and finally decided on Hungry Hungry Hippo’s, which I guess is a pretty good prize in itself... still not Jenga, but what can ya do. Later on in the night, Steve (the host), told me that if he found Jenga again that he would just give it to me as a gift so I would no longer need to suffer through the ups an downs of bingo play. I was extremely flattered but in all honest, as brutal as my luck seems to be, my quest for Jenga is just too fun to give up and accept as a gift.
The night had many ridiculous moments and ended in a game of 3 am scrabble with new friends. Needless to say, it was one of the best nights ever.
Fast forward to Thursday night.
My staff party.
All I can say about this is that I work with some of the most hilarious and remarkable people in the world. We drank our way through quite a few bottles of wine, and then as the party died down, the mission began.
So you’re probably curious as to what this “mission” is?! Or you’re not…but I’m going to tell you anyways…
I want to date a Guido.
No don’t get your panties all up in a knot! Let me explain!
After watching Jersey Shore, I was struck with the idea about how unbelievably funny it would be to date a Guido for 2 weeks. If you haven’t seen Jersey Shore, let me just provide you with a peak at the most amazing show currently permeating our airwaves…
(sorry the quality is so shitty, it’s all I could find)
CAN WE PLEASE YELL ABOUT THIS FOR A SECOND!
Holy fuck. I still can't believe this show exists. Whoever created it deserves a fucking trophy. I had no clue that there are actually people out there who are proud to call themselves Guido’s and Guidette’s (the female version of a Guido.) IT’S TOO MUCH! Seriously, I’m out of breath thinking about how exciting this show is.
What I love the most is how excited these people are to parade their Italian heritage. I’m betting that the majority of these Guid’s are 5th generation Italians, and are just clinging to any ounce of Italian heritage they can. This happened in my high school too; there were loads of self-proclaimed wops who thought they fucking owned Italy, when their mothers, uncles, brother was the only Italian person in their family. If anyone’s a fucking Guido up in here, it’s me. I’m as pure bred as they come.
Anyways…back to what I was talking about.
Let’s just look at the men in the show for a second so you can truly understand my reasons for wanting to date one….
On the left here we’ve got Pauly D. Apparently this guy is 29, even though he looks and acts 15. It takes him 25 minutes to blow out his hair and he brought an entire fucking box of Dippity Doo with him so he’d never run out. Most of my favorite scenes from the show include Pauly D. Like the time when him and JWOWW (yea, you heard me right) were laying on his bed making out, and he just whipped out his peen to show her his cock ring. After that, she was all “shit, I just saw your penis!” She also has a boyfriend. No big thang.
The next night, her and Pauly D were grindin’ in up in da club, when she proceeded to take off his shirt, leave the club with it, and then went home to eat ham. TOO GOOD! So bitch is at home substituting processed ham for sex, and Pauly D’s just chillin’ at a club with no shirt.
Next in line is “The Situation” – you have to say this with an extremely harsh Jersey accent in order to get the full effect. He has this nickname because he’s got "abs so ripped up, it's called the situation," his words, not mine. He thinks he’s the absolute shit and says things like, “it’s not a matter of if we’re going to hook up, it’s just a matter of when I decide to”. He said that about a roommate named Sammi who made out with him (at a club of course) and then proceed to make out with another guy in the house that same night. Poor Situation, I guess yo’ killa abs just weren’t hot enough for her.
The last two are Ronnie and Vinnie. Neither really do anything of much importance, however, in the first episode they showed Vinnie’s Mom cutting his turkey for him. Precious.
So back to my mission. Let’s just pretend I managed to give out my number to a “juiced up, tanned Guid” – as one of the female characters likes to call them. He’d then take me on a date…probably to a club where we’d grind and he’d try to get in my pants. But I’d be a prude and the next time we’d maybe go out to a lounge for Pina Colada’s. The stories would be fucking endless. Could you imagine the shit they’d say? And the amount of Ed Hardy they’d wear!? It would be out of this world.
It’s officially my new life goal. I’m going to meet, date, and dump a Guido. I'll have to end it prior to actually having sex with them, because that would just be too far…and I’d imagine that during the act they’d pout their lips, flex their muscles and grunt in the most displeasing manner. Not only this, but I imagine they'd probably say shit like “YAAAAA GIRL, check out my cock piercing…I know you wanna choke on that!”
BLAGHHHHH!!!!
ANYWAYS! Night one of my mission to date a Guido didn’t really go as planned. We hit up the Roadhouse and luckily there were plenty in sight, however, I began to quiver and dry heave anytime one approached us and attempted to grind up on me. The second night of the mission happened in Banff, but I was distracted by a very skinny Aussie with ironic facial hair...so I didn't really get an opportunity... One day though, I’ll get the courage to dry hump a Guid in da club, and subsequently force a date to happen. And then hopefully I’ll be able to write a blog entitled “The Time I Dated A Guido.” It's going to be superb.
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