Coyote Mornings

So there you were.

You went out for some drinks with your buddies or buddettes and had a great time. Around closing time you met the most beautiful guy/girl you have ever seen and by some miracle they took a look at you and decided the same thing. You felt a little bad about ditching your friends for this stranger but the desire to be with this person was just so overwhelming you couldn’t help yourself. Why your friends kept trying to deter you makes no sense at all does it?

The sex was incredible wasn’t it? Ditching your friends was worth it.

So you wake up the next morning and look over at this god/goddess sleeping on your now completely numb arm… you suddenly come to the startling realization that you would rather chew your arm off than wake this person up. You think of that poor coyote in the trap and know exactly how he feels.

Not that this has ever happened to me…
“Drinking provides a beautiful excuse to pursue the one activity that truly
gives me pleasure, hooking up with fat, hairy girls”.
– Ross Levy

I went to school with a guy who made this activity a habit. Every weekend, about five of us would go out and get destroyed. By the end of the night, four of us were trying to pull Don out of some monster’s car or trying to rip him out of the beast’s arms. Unfortunately, he was huge and could have kicked all of our asses at the same time if he wanted to. Inevitably, I’d get the call, around 6 am the next (the same, actually) morning, begging for a ride home from somewhere (We were in Bethesda, MD at the time. The calls normally came from somewhere in DC, but once even as far as VA.) I was always pissed, but then I’d remember the night before and feel so bad for him, I’d do it.

So, how’s your stump Feynn?

:wink:

If there was one reason NOT to get drunk this would be it.

You would be amazed at how well a person can function with only one arm.

It gets even worse when a person hasn’t got the guts to start chewing, around here we call these folks “married”.

For some reason, the morning after heavy drinking I usually find a gnawed off arm in my bed. Now I know why.

<hijack> I’d give my right arm to be ambidextrous. </hijack>

Did you ever consider that maybe he liked hooking up with fuglies and this was his only excuse to get away with it?

Problem solved on this end: get it on, get off, get out. No sleep-overs = two arms, TYVM. :o

My friend called me up one morning in a total panic, I had left him with some people the night before to go home… ALONE.

Anyways, he was freaking out. He had woken up and didn’t know where he was with a woman he didn’t know. She had just left and when he had pulled back the sheets there was brown goopy stuff everywhere. He didn’t know what the hell he and this woman had done the night before but was sure it had been awfully nasty. It turns out that they hadn’t done anything except fall into bed and snack on M&M’s until they passed out. Seems that quite a few got spilled into the bed.

I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed…

I thought this article was apropos:
http://dailynews.yahoo.com/h/nm/20000912/hl/love_1.html