If you are what you eat, he must eat some really cool people.

The other day I had the privilege to meet someone who was, in my opinion, the coolest man this side of the Andromeda Galaxy. I am not one hundred percent sure what it was about him that made him on such a level that no one could even dream of touching him. Maybe it was his collection of leather jackets that matched the color of every crotch rocket he owned. On the other hand, it could very well have been his Tapout® t-shirts that were all two sizes too small. Then again, his amazing tan and charming resemblance to a moose could have been his selling point. I don't know if I could pick just one trait that describes 'moose' as a whole. What I can do is tell you about the amazing night he had in store for me, and that is just what I will do.

I think the appropriate way to start this story is to explain how little-old-me came to be so lucky. Every day when I was driving home from work I would pass this bar called the Toolbox. I had always wondered what type of people they let into a place like that. Then one day it happened, I got up the nerve to pull over and drop in. Little did I know, the makings of the most incredible day I will ever experience were beginning to brew. I think the flames on the front door were what had lured me in to begin with, not to mention how totally jacked the door man was. Once inside I immediately felt a tingling in my nether-regions. Just to be safe, the first thing I did was tuck my penis under my waistband, just in case these incredible excuses of men turned me on too much. After a few beers and a conversation about how 'I'm on a Boat' is the greatest song ever made, I decided it was time to go. On my way out I couldn't help but notice a fish bowl filled with business cards and a man chiseled from stone on the front. I felt like I was looking at the sculpture of David, if only Michelangelo had chiseled on a pair of sunglasses to be worn day and night. The bowl was a contest for a night out with this man who had just become famous on some reality T.V. show. I tossed in my business card and was on my way.

Later that day as I sat on my couch recovering from the Toolbox, my phone rang. I picked it up and was greeted with an exclamatory voice saying, "You are the lucky wiener." I immediately screamed like a man in his mid thirties at a Nickleback concert. I had won a night out with a celebrity, how lucky was I? After a few minutes of hyperventilation I gained enough composure to write down all the information needed. He was to pick me up the next day, and who knows what he had in store for me? I spent all night lying awake (like I used to the night before Christmas when I was so excited for the Jesus guy to break into my house and leave me presents).

T'was about a quarter after seven when the greasy, bulgy, hunk of a man came to pick me up. I heard him coming from a few blocks down the road. The ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ's become louder and louder until the annoying buzzing was stopped in my driveway. I walked out to greet him all fancied up in my pleated pants and Doc Martins I had bought a few days earlier just for this momentous occasion. He looked at me a little awkwardly when I threw one leg over the seat of his bike and held tightly around his waist. I was tempted to whisper 'I will never let go' into his ear, but for the fear that this might put a damper on the rest of a night with someone so much cooler than myself, I resisted. As I held on tightly he tossed down his sweet shades, even though the sun had just fallen below the horizon, and away we went.

As we drove down the street, I had never felt so cool- especially when he would put the bike in neutral and rev the engine so all the cars around us at the stop light could hear. After about fifteen minutes of this, the excitement died down as we pulled into the Toolbox. I was hoping this wasn't the night he had planned for me, but kept my spirits high. We walked in and were immediately met with a cheer and some guys barking. We sat at the bar and he order a drink for me, a vodka and cran. This made me feel special, a little like a girl, but special nonetheless. As the night drew later and the bar started to fill in, the excitement of hanging out with the coolest man in the world fell off. He had stopped buying me vodka crans and paid little attention to me. I didn't want to believe it was the girls with their ass cheeks hanging out the bottom of their dresses and a layer of what looked like Dijon mustard on their faces, but I know it was exactly that. After buying myself a few drinks I decided it was that time for me to head home. I found 'moose' at the bar and tried to get his attention, but I think he was distracted by his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I gave him a quick slap on his tight rear and took off as he tried to fight the other guy standing behind him.

    My night spent with the coolest man in the world had officially come to an end. I should have known I wasn't cool enough to keep up with him. I guess I have learned my lesson, and my days of sitting-in and building my model rockets are far from over. Time to do a few lines, cry, and use my tears to rub one out as I watch Girls Gone Wild commercials.