50% cotton/50% polyester NASCAR-print sheets

Let me say that my beloved friend Snicker, by whom I am forbidden to get mushy, is nonetheless the sister of my heart, the older sister who spoils me with birthday pressies from Lush to feed my jones for bath products, and who does things like change her MSN status to read "Hoping it was at minimum a 400 thread count date."

Unfortunately, it was more of a poly/cotton, NASCAR-print, 0 thread-count date. When your date walks towards your house and pauses to spit, that's really not a good sign. When he has a "spit bottle" in his car, that's an even worse sign. Chewing tobacco aside, we had a good time at dinner with Amy and Josh. Part of that was just eating at my favorite Mexican restaurant, which has incredible food for a decent price, but part of it was the company. I did manage to spill a small amount of salsa on my shirt and a drop of white chile con queso on my skin just above my neckline, but I otherwise managed to convey the food from my plate to my mouth without incident. I had to let a lot of the conversation swirl past me, not being a NASCAR fan, but I managed to get most of the jokes.

After dinner, Amy wanted to go to the XXX bookstore, so we did. Unfortunately, twice within the ten minute drive, my date used the "N" word, immediately followed by the excuse that he's not really a racist. Right. Non-racists use that word all the time. We did have fun at the bookstore. We were wandering around looking at everything, and of course one of the guys had to pick up and wave around the NWS!!! Great American Challenge. Thankfully, it was Amy and not one of the sleazies heading for the peep show in back who noticed the dried white flakes on my chest and handed me a tissue. Then, while we were looking at flavored oral sex gels, I made Amy almost collapse to the floor laughing. She was looking reading the flavors off and commenting, and when she got to "bubble gum" I answered, "Put that back, it's for Michael Jackson" The very best line of the night, though, came as I was standing at the counter looking at the glass dildos. I pointed to an absolutely beautiful one with bluish iridescent swirls and a rose in the knobbed handle end and asked the price, unaware Josh had come up behind me. Almost as soon as the words were out of the cashier's mouth, an outraged bass voice behind me bellowed, "One hundred and nine dollars for a GLASS WIENIE?" *snort*

After examining pretty much the entire inventory of the store, we headed back to my house, where we sat around and read the book of X-rated shots Sherri sent me, making sure to add "with MR. DICK" to the end of each drink name. I did notice that my date flirted with Amy and not with me, so perhaps the non-attraction was mutual. I do know that everyone, myself included, had fun, and sometimes, that's enough.