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The Green Parrot Club is in Key West, Florida

What in fuck compels some MEN to say the most ridiculously juvenile things when the prospect of getting laid readily presents itself?

Scratch that. What the fuck compels men to say the most ridiculously juvenile things * HOPING * that the opportunity will present itself?

To all of my male readers; Help a Sista out and explain to me why your kind is so fucking wack! And DON’T say, “Gee Pammy, it’s the blasted alcohol that makes us act less than fucking human,” because the alcohol excuse is MINE!

Up until last Friday, a man named “Miles” held the trophy for the lamest attempt at picking up Poly Pam. It was October of ’07, and I was at the Parrot’s annual Halloween party with some of my lovely lady friends.

I, of course, attended the party in costume.

‘Twas a marvelous gypsy costume that I had fashioned from Lucky’s wardrobe. I received many a compliment that night, one of which came from my pal “Miles.”

Here is our exchange:

  • [Jackass] Miles: (As I walk past his table) “Excuse me! Hot gypsy girl!”

Me: (As I lift my chin in that masculine sort of way that says, “Yes, I acknowledge your presence) “What up? Yo!”

  • Miles: “What’s your name?”

Me: “Margret.” (Margret is my standard alias. I never tell strange men my name)

  • Miles: “Fuck you. What’s your name?”
    (It is SOOOO hot when a guy says, “Fuck you” to a woman… Right?)

Pammy: “Fuck you, dude. I’m serious. My name really is Margret.”

  • Miles: (Getting up from his seat) “You want to dance or what?”

Me: “No. WHO the fuck ARE you?”

  • Miles: (Leaning real close and seductive like) “My name is Miles…”
    (Long pause, followed by an eyebrow raise) “Miles O’ Toole.”

Me: (Hysterical, side splitting laughter, complete with watering eyes)
“THAT is the stupidest FUCKING thing I have EVER fucking heard in my ENTIRE fucking LIFE!!!” (Laughing, laughing, laughing as I saunter away)

There have been some great runners-up worth mentioning. There’s the “Let’s go out behind the dumpster” guy; The “You’re pretty hot for a big assed girl” guy; The “I wanna do the inny outy with you” guy; The “I have a seven inch tongue” guy; The “You have nice tits, can I see ’em ?” guy; And the dirty, mullet sporting, smoking pot in his car whilst headbanging, “Hey bitch! You wanna fuck?” guy.

As I have stated, these are all worthy contenders for the prize.

However, I simply must award the coveted trophy to the bald, glasses wearing Hispanic guy from last Friday night.

BUCKLE UP!here’s the Winner!!

My friend, Shawna, and I were at the Parrot because we were celebrating with our friend who had been dubbed cancer free for the second year in a row. (Yay!) It was two hours until closing time, and Shawna and I were waiting for her piece of ass to finish his last beer so we could hightail it outta there before the coppers hit the streets in full force.

While we waited, Shawna and I danced around the table to a song that we had already heard 4 fucking times that night. Shawna noticed this bald, glasses wearing hispanic guy gawking at us, and like a fucking retard, she invited him to dance!

He positioned himself between us and started grinding like nobody’s business.

I tried to get away, but I was smashed up against a chair that was pushed right up against the table. I think this loser thought that I was getting hot and dirty because I got real low to the floor (only to try and wriggle my way out of the situation) – I ended up banging my chin on the back of the chair, which caused me to bite down my tongue. Fucking OUCH!

When the song finally ended, and I was able to move away from this dude, he grabbed hold of my waist and proceeded to grind his nasty junk all over my leg.

It was not dissimilar to getting humped by a rather large dog. I got knocked into Shawna, who had taken a seat, and with my face very near to hers, I mouthed the words, “Fuck you, you fucking stupid bitch.” She smiled at me rather stupidly, with heavily lidded eyes, and I immediately regretted my earlier decision to be a passenger in her car.

I managed to push Mr. Grabby McGrabberton away from me. Then, we had this unforgettable exchange of words:

“Dude, you need to get the fuck off of me.”

Mr. Grabby: “Can I gahhome wiss you? I like to be balooony.”

Me: “What? No!”

Mr. Grabby: (Leaning into my chest) “What do I haf ta do ta be an Ermericans Eagle?”

Me: (Grabbing his slimy, sweating head with both hands and pushing it back) “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Me to Shawna: “Hey lady! I’m ready to get the fuck outta here.”

Shawna: (Standing up, then falling back in her seat, then successfully standing up) “Let’s move!”

Me: “Okay then…you there guy who’s name I don’t know… get home safe.”

Mr. Grabby: ( Swaying to and fro) “I’ll licks your pussy better-er dan dat damn Ermericans Eagles.”

Mr. Grabby: (Leaning into Shawna, who had magically appeared right next to me)

“I’ll licks bofs ofs yas.”

Mr. Grabby: (Yelling now, and staggering in place, waving his hands in the air like a maestro)

“I’ll eeeet your puuussy! Margret! (That’s me) Margret, I’ll lisk you…I’ll lisk…hahahaha, I can’t say lisk anymore…I’ll lisk your pus-I’ll even lisk you where you POOP!!!”

WTF!!!! – “I’ll even lisk you where you poop…”

(I laughed all the way home !!)

There we have it folks. The lamest attempt to pick up Poly Pam. I hope like hell that there isn’t anything that can top this statement because I swear to God, if I hear something worse than this…if there is ANYTHING that could possibly be more deserving of the trophy…


…i sWeaR to GoD,
i’m going dYke!

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1 Comment»

  punchedmonkey wrote @

You’d better not go dyke!
But seriously Pammy, we’ve discussed this poop is NOT sexy, unless you’re twisted?
But I sadly am not qualified to comment fully on the purile crap that emanates from men’s mouths when they’re horny, or the prospect of a shag comes up. I consider myself to be a man of taste (if not wealth) and my approach when I like a lady has always been one of open honest friendship in the first degree – then see where that takes us. This kind of overt nastiness has never been Monkey’s style. But then again, I’m not entirely governed by my cock – like most assholes.
In short, hotstuff, I sympathise. . .


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