One thing I can say about this whole thing is my ass has never looked better. When she had me up on all fours so she could get down in that area, she got a mirror for me. Let me just say, it’s so smooth I kind of want to pet my own asshole. Liz keeps asking me if I want some alone time so I can finger my ass, and I think she's joking so I give Stephanie’s mirror back to her before I get carried away.
The only good part about this day is that I don’t feel so self-conscious about myself anymore. Maybe this whole time I haven’t really been worried about left-over baby fat; I’ve been worried about my va**na being too furry. I really do feel a whole lot sexier knowing what’s going on down there in my underwear right now. Once Stephanie could actually see my vagina, she had told me it was very nice. And since she’s seen a lot of vaginas in her line of work, I trust her judgment.
I’m a little more confident now about talking to Drew as well and telling him what I need. Weird how a hairless va**na can do that for you. I’m pretty excited to finally be honest with Drew and take my new va**na out for a spin. I wish it wasn’t frowned upon to go without pants in public.
Chapter 20 – Who’s on Goal, What’s on Basket?
“So how good looking are we talking here? Like Chace Crawford hot or Penn Badgley hot?” Carter asks me while we’re packing up our work bags and getting ready to clock out for the night.
Of course I tell my boys everything about the f**king home wrecker that moved in across the street. They know he’s trying to move in on my territory and take over as hottest guy on the block. Oh, hell no! That position has been mine for four years. Plus, I don’t like the way he looked at Jenny the other night. And she had made him cookies. COOKIES! She only makes cookies for me. Just like I’m the only one who ever surprises her with little candy treats. Well, I used to do that. I guess I’ve kind of forgot lately.
“Who the f**k are Chace Penn and Crawford Badgley?” Jim asks as he walks with us towards the exit doors of the automotive plant.
“It’s Chace Crawford and Penn Badgley. The two leading actors on Gossip Girl,” I tell him. “It’s like you’ve never even picked up an US Weekly. Live a little, Jim.”
We head out to the parking lot and make our way to our cars. I can’t get the picture of Fuckson out of my head and the way he was so casually friendly with my wife.
“Oh, Jenny! Thank you so much for the cookies. I can’t wait to eat your scrumptious cookies and then f**k you in the living room on a pile of cookies while your husband is at work,” I say in a high pitched voice.
“Does he really sound like that? Because I gotta say, if he does, you have nothing to worry about,” Carter tells me as we wave to a few other guys heading out to their cars.
“Well, it wasn’t exactly like that. It was more like, ‘Mmmm, me like cookies. Me eat cookies all gone,” I say in a deep, voice.
“So easy a caveman can do it,” Jim says with a laugh.
“This is no laughing matter, Jim. I know I made a huge mistake when I had my dad trail Jenny because I thought she was hiding something from me a few weeks ago. and I’m still in the doghouse for it, but what if she’s decided to get back at me by actually hiding something?”
In all honesty, I really don’t think the stuff going on with us lately is that serious, even though I went along with the therapy and the disastrous dinner with the neighbors. I kind of just do it to humor Jenny. If she thinks something needs to be fixed, then who am I to tell her it doesn’t? I figure she will just eventually bounce back to the Jenny I know and love. The crazy, nympho Jenny who likes to test out Ben Wa balls in a sex toy store and who lets me put a remote control vibrator on her during our wedding ceremony.
“Do you, Jenny, take Drew to be your-”
“OH MY GOD! OH YES, YES, YES! OH JESUS YES!”
“Well, alright then. I think that means I can now pronounce you husband and-”
“KEEP GOING! OH GOD DON’T STOP!”
“Um, wife? Sorry, that’s all I’ve got.”
“Suddenly, after becoming buddy-buddy with Shirtless McFucker Face, she wants vanilla sex. She wants to just…do it. No bells and whistles, no live animals, no power strips for electrical safety precautions, and no elbow pads or helmets. I don’t understand,” I complain to the guys as we get to Jim’s car first and we all stop next to it. “She ruined me for vanilla sex. She ruined me and it was the best way to be ruined ever. And now she just expects me to go back to missionary position only with the lights off?”
Jim opens his car door and throws his bag in the backseat.
“Elbow pads and a helmet?” Carter asks.
“Oh man, best day ever. We went to a skateboard park and did it sliding down the ramp,” I tell him. “We had to keep stopping, getting up, and going to the top so we could slip back down again so it took a while, but it was still magical.”
Man, those were the days.
“Before we make any snap judgments, I think we need to meet this Jackson guy,” Jim explains.
“It’s Fuckson. Get it right,” I tell him sternly.
“Fine, Fuckson. I want to meet him and see for myself if he poses a threat.”
Jenny volunteered to coach Veronica’s peewee soccer team and they have their first game tomorrow afternoon. She must really be bored with work and the kids to sign up for something like that. Maybe that’s why she’s been so different lately. She’s bored and doesn’t have enough to do. Too bad she doesn’t know a thing about soccer, so I don’t think coaching is going to be as life fulfilling as she might think.
Veronica had told me she asked Fuckson if he would come watch her game and he said yes.
Fucking crapbag.
Of course she doesn’t call him Fuckson. She calls him her best friend ever. Well you know who my best friends are? My two fists. And they’re eager to meet Shit on a Stick’s face. Booyah!
The guys are already planning on coming to Veronica’s game, so I let them know they will get their chance to form an opinion the following afternoon. As we say our good-byes and pull out of the parking lot, I'm actually excited about this. My boys will meet this tool and realize what a loser he is and then we can all warn Jenny together. Like an intervention. A Fuck Face intervention. She’ll thank me by getting na**d and our lives will go back to the way they should be.
~
“No! Wrong way, Alex! The touchdown is that way!” Jenny screams, pointing to the opposite end of the field where little Alex is currently running with the soccer ball.
“It’s a GOAL, Jenny. A GOAL! Touchdown is in football,” I tell her quickly as we both start yelling from the sidelines for Alex to turn around.
“Oh my God, this soccer thing is hard. Why are there so many rules for three and four year olds?” Jenny complains as she pulls one of the kids out of the game for a break and gets Veronica ready to take her place.
“Hey, Drew. I need to tell you something,” Jenny says as she hands Veronica her water bottle.
Oh shit, she’s going to tell me she’s leaving me. This can’t happen!
“Nope, no talking. This is a serious game. Pay attention.”
Jenny rolls her eyes at me and squats down to talk to Veronica.
“Okay, honey, remember, don’t take the ball away from your teammates. And if you get the ball, spike it all the way down the track,” Jenny explains to a confused Veronica.
“Or, you could kick it down the field,” I confirm for Veronica.
“Soccer sucks,” Veronica complains, folding her arms in front of her and refusing to move.
“I know, soccer totally sucks and it will probably make you gay. But there’s not much else to pick from when you’re three. Suck it up and go make me a goal!” I tell her as I grab her shoulders, turn her around to face the field and give her a little shove.
“Okay, seriously. You and I need to talk. I have something I need-”
The ref blows the whistle right next to Jenny for the kickoff, and she stops in the middle of her sentence to wince. There’s a flurry of kids all racing for the ball, hitting and shoving and pulling hair to get to it. They don’t care what team they’re playing for; the just want the ball. It’s soccer anarchy.
“NO, JUSTIN! WE DON’T BITE IN SOCCER!” Jenny yells to one of the kids.
“Get the ball, Veronica! Take that ball away and pitch it past the catcher!”
“You are majorly screwing up your sports talk. Pitch and catcher are for baseball,” I explain to her as the crowd erupts in cheers when someone makes a goal. No clue who made it or what team just got the point because all these little bastards look the same.
“But we get two points for a basket, right?” she asks as the kids come in for a water break.
“No, you get one point for a goal. Basket is in basketball.”
“But you told the kids earlier to dribble the ball down the field. I KNOW dribbling is basketball,” she argues.
“Dribbling is basketball and soccer.”
“Who stops someone from dribbling in basketball?” she asks.
“Defense.”
“Then who stops them from dribbling a ball in soccer?”
“The defender,” I tell her, wondering if this is going to turn into the worst “Who’s on First” moment in history.
“Whatever, as long as they don’t kill each other, I don’t care. Anyway, we really need to talk about something important and-”
“Shhhhhhhhh!” I tell her, putting my finger against her lips. “Game. We play. No talk.”
Fuck! I sound like a God dammed Neanderthal but I can’t help it. Whatever important thing she needs to tell me is probably going to be that she’s decided she wants a younger penis that likes to eat vanilla.
Luckily, something shiny distracts her. Unfortunately, that shiny thing is Fuckson, Mr. Vanilla himself.
Not to be confused with Vanilla Ice, obviously. If Mr. Ice walked over here right now, I would freak the f**k out! Best rapper since Milli Vanilli. You can’t blame it on the rain without first stopping, collaborating, and then listening. Genius.
He saunters (yes, I said saunters, shut it) over to us and hey, look at that. He’s wearing a f**king shirt for once.
“Jackson! You made it,” she says with a smile as she gives crap hole a quick hug before ushering the team back out on the field.
“OH MY GOSH YAAAAY! I’m so excited you’re here!” I squeal in sarcastic delight, clapping my hands together and jumping up and down.
Jenny gives me a dirty look before turning away to face Vaginal Itch Vanilla.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world! You’re doing a great job coaching. Drew, you didn’t play soccer in school, did you?” shit dick asks.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m not good enough to play soccer? He doesn’t think I know how to play sports? Did this shit on a shingle just insult me?
“What, you don’t think I would totally kick ass at soccer?” I ask him, trying to rein in my anger before I’m kicked out of a peewee soccer game for bloodying someone’s face.
“Oh, no! I didn’t mean that at all! I just meant, with your size, I’m betting you played football or rugby. Some full contact sport where you could really kick ass and not just run around the field. You seem like you could play a mean game of football.”
He’s right. I CAN play a mean game of football.
“I was a total loser in school and didn’t play any sports. You must have been like the coolest guy in school. I can tell just by looking at you that everyone liked you. We’re you homecoming king or anything?” he asks curiously.
“Actually, yeah. I was homecoming king AND prom king. It was the first time in the history of the school that it happened. You should have seen how loud everyone cheered when they called my name. Dude, it was f**king amazing.”
What the f**k am I doing? I just called him 'dude'! And I’m sharing a memory with him. I don’t like this guy. I hate this guy. Do NOT be nice to him.
“Oh man, I wish I could have seen that! I bet you won everything,” he says. He stares at me for a few minutes, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable when the next thing pops out of his mouth.
“Wait, Drew Parritt? Holy shit, I knew that name sounded familiar! You were first team, all-state during all four years of high school and got a scholarship but blew your knee out senior year. Oh my God! You’re a f**king legend!”
He knows me! He’s heard of me! I am a f**king legend!
“Shit, man! That last game of the season sucked major ass. I could have worked harder with the physical therapy and possibly been back on the field sophomore year of college but I was too busy with the ladies at that point,” I say with a laugh, quickly cutting it off and dropping my smile when I remember who the hell I’m talking to – Public Enemy Number One!
“Man, do you still have all of your trophies and awards and shit? I would love to see all of them,” he gushes.
Noooo, the force is strong! Resist! Resist!
“Yes! I have them all in the basement on a dinky shelf. I really want to build some kind of cabinet for them but I’m not good with that stuff.”
Fuck! What the f**k am I doing? Stop talking to him. He’s my arch nemesis!
“Hey, I can totally build that for you. I went to school for carpentry actually and my teachers all said I had great natural talent. I build stuff for everyone in the family, and I’m trying to start my own business. I could come over later and you could show me your trophies, and I can get an idea on how big of a cabinet you’ll need,” he says excitedly.