More on My Bro, Bri

Where there's fun, I'm there.  Bike-ski, kiddies.  Bike-ski after the gym, but if you don't want to hit the gym, I'm here to tell you that cross country skiing gives you a free pass to skip the gym.  BTW, some shit stole that Gary Fisher bag on my bike that I used to hold my skis, asshat.

So what's been shaking?  Well, the dude who brayed at Motorcycle Mike the drunken night at Indy Ale texted me randomly the other day.  I texted back, "Hey, I don't think this text was for me but what's going on?" and never heard anything.  Considering the total weirdness that transpired between us, later on I texted, "I guess we're not texting/talking anymore, eh?"  Then he called me today.  But I didn't pick up because I was with my ex and we were super busy running errands.  All I got was a text, "Is this Nat?"  WTF.

"Don't pick up that call.  After that weird night with you two are you serious?" my ex snapped.  True dat.

 Sigh.  What's a girl to do?  There's the crazy hot messes, who are so interesting like him and Crackie, and then there's the guys like Motorcycle Mike/Hipster who are so cool and hot but don't know I exist.  What's a girl to do?

Hence Bri.  Bri the boring one, but so sweet.

But he's so dated as in  "Where's the beef?"

There's the horrible knock-knock joke he told me at rally where his best friend and mom laughed as if he was Brian Gaffagan, and I stood there jaw agape.  Seriously?  Then there's the rat tail he's growing.  Oh, yes, 1982 called, and apparently though he's bald, his ten year old wants him to grow his hair out into a "rat tail."  Good, almighty Lord.  What in heavens name does any woman with sense of common decency say to that.  "Uh, hope that works for you.  Call me when you cut it off."

I'm lookin' out for us all, hun.