So Hendricks comes charging into my house the other day, in a greater rush than usual, and blurts out to me “why do you have so many cars in your driveway?!  Everytime I come there’s a different car out there!”

I’m like, calm down, deep breath, what are you talking about.

“There are 3 cars in your driveway today.”

“umm, no there’s not.  there are two, right?  One is the neighbor chick’s car, which i told ‘em is cool, the other is chelsea’s… there are three?”

“well, yeah, yours.”

“but mine’s in the garage. that doesn’t count.”

“whatever.  There’s always a different car.  I’m waiting for one day when as I come, some chick is leaving.  we’ll cross paths.”

“okayyyyyyy (have I been cheating on him??).  I mean, chelsea is in the other room, if you want to go see her.”

“just forget about it.”

silly silly hendricks.  I’m glad he thinks so highly of my pimpish abilities (we won’t tell him that I don’t actually have any).  Speaking of him, I apparently agreed to letting him use my house for his brother’s bachelor party… literally months ago we had a conversation about it.

So yeah, now instead of a quiet saturday night of work, I’m having a bachelor party here for a guy I’ve met once, complete with strippers (no complaints here).

Today I got a phone call from one of the “professional entertainers” to confirm directions, rules, etc.  It was probably one of the oddest conversations I’ve ever had in my life.

“Hi Jason, you got a pen to write some things down that I need you to get?”  oh boy, this should be fun.

“Here’s what I need:  two cans of spray whipped cream, do NOT get a tub of cool whip.  I also need strawberries, a blanket you don’t care about, and any 2 chairs.  Do you have that stuff there?”

(me, thinking… quickly…ish): “well, yeah.  I of course have all of that here.  Save for the chairs.  I didn’t realize I’d need to have chairs in my house.  I’ll go buy some tomorrow.”

this obviously threw her off, as I didn’t say it jokingly.  but she paused, then moved on to business.  her next line was pretty blunt:

“I will not give you a blow job.”

whew, glad that’s out of the way.  I guess I should’ve said you’re fired, but I think I was too stunned to say much of anything.  She then said that she wouldn’t be blowing anyone (sorry parm!), and that I need to tell everyone there to be respectful before they got here and to not even ask.  I can’t wait to have that conversation.

“Hi guys, my name is jason, this is my house, and no one will be blowing you tonight.”

This party is going to need some massive, massive help.  Eric is all straight edge and shit and was asking me, the (recovering, never recovered!) alcoholic about drinks and shit.  I myself have told him not to rely on me to liven things up, as I’ll be working in another room… but I can at least try to help him plan.  So I ask what his brother likes to drink.

“well, he likes southern comfort.  oh, and lime.  southern comfort and lime.”

“ok, soco & lime.  got it.  what else?”

“what else?”

“yeah, what else.  what kind of beer?  You can’t just give the kid shots of soco all night.  that will suck, and get messy.”

“well, I was thinking of heineken.”

“why, are you going to be plucking your eyebrows all night and talking about how hot dudes are?”

“well, no.  it’s just that his favorite color is forest green and all…”

“you have to be fucking kidding me.”

Me, this party, the bachelor…. they’re all soooooooooo fucked.

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