Or, more generally, have you had a “life imitates popular culture” experience?
Well, I had an experience that was very much like the classic “Mulva” episode of “Seinfeld.”
I met a guy at a club about three years ago. He told me his name, but I couldn’t hear over the music, or I just wasn’t paying attention or something. (He seemed to remember my name, though, because I’m such a hottie .)
Anyway, we kept seeing each other at clubs, and one thing led to another, yadda yadda yadda. But I didn’t know his name, and by this point we had gone too far for me to just ask him. So I asked my friend Ryan to introduce himself to the guy in front of me - just like Jerry asked Kramer to do - but, just like Kramer, Ryan said “I didn’t get his name.”
So I started to refer to this guy as “Mulva” to my club friends. (They all got the reference.) I didn’t want to keep seeing him, so if I knew he was at the club, I’d run up to my friends and say “Shit, Mulva’s here!”
Anyway, I finally did get his name. No, it didn’t rhyme with any part of the anatomy, male or female.
Oh, and Mulva had a tailbone that jutted out. Kind of freaked me out the first time we got nekkid. :eek:
I’ve lived all the Seinfeld episodes. There have been plenty of days where nothing funny happened and I was bored out of my mind, just like in the show.
I’m terrible with names when I meet girls in a club. Actually, if I do remember a name, I take it as a sign to call that one,lol.
My old trick was this:
After forgetting a name…and talking for awhile, hoping that it would come out, I would ask for her number. Take either a napkin and pen, or your cellphone, and say
“ok, now which way do you spell your name?”
worked every time, except one, when the answer I got was
“K-I-M, you asshole”
Not a specific episode, but a Seinfeldesque thing happened just tonight:
The dogs got out today, even though we filled in their digging hole with oyster shells. When SO’s roommate arrives home, we show him the underside of his Great Dane, which is fairly cut up and rubbed raw in many places. He pulls out various First Aid items to doctor up the pup. When he’s finished, he asks me if I have any theraputic lotion, like a vitamin E lotion or something.
Hmm…
I go to our bedroom and grab the first thing I can think of, which is a tub medicated ointment/salve. I run back out and offer it to the roommate, who wrinkles his nose and says “This container is [ireally greasy[/i.”
I say “Ha, well, if you only knew what it was used for!”
He starts yelling “EEWWwww!!!”
and I realize that he thought it was something sexual.
Embarassed, I assure him;
"oh no no no. It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s just that (insert SO’s name here) uses it on his balls!!
As he shoves the tub back to me and does the gross-out dance, I realize what I just told him…
We’ve been making fun of him all night about how he intransitively touched SO’s balls!
Well, I don’t know that my life has ever really played out like a Seinfeld episode. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. However, Scott told me to check this thread out, so I am just on record as saying I have. Happy now, Scott?
.)
