Today dawned like any other day for me: wake up in the gutter on Selby Avenue, spit out the Fleet Enema that was inexplicably in my mouth, drive home in the Hulles Ride, shit in the cat litter, shave my tongue, take a shower, scoot next door and sex down the neighbor's border collie -- hey, bitch was in heat, what's a concerned PETA member supposed to do? Trust me, if you're any kind of dog lover at all it would have warmed your heart to see the gratitude shining in her eyes as we shared a cigarette afterwards....
In other words, dogs were in heaven and all was right with the world.
I was out of Kahlua, so for breakfast I had a concoction I invented myself in the Hulles Labs called a Mexican Windbreaker: 1 can of Old El Paso refried beans, 1 750ml bottle of Cuervo Gold, the juice of 6 limes, 4 Habañero peppers with seeds, blend well, serve over ice in a dog dish, garnish with a cockroach on a toothpick. I like to drink these occasionally to prevent scurvy and bilharzia. I find that after one or two Mexican Windbreakers I can actually hover an inch above my chair for minutes at a time.
But once I reached the redundantly-named Nina's Coffee Cafe and scent-marked the corner tables I found myself at a loss. What the hell do I blog about today? I have tens of readers that rely on me to keep them abreast of current affairs....
Speaking of which, I met one of those readers last night for the first time -- Jen, of JeNC17 notoriety. Normally I wouldn't write about this, soul of discretion that I am, but she drew first blood -- she mentioned in a public comment or two on a previous Hulles blog entry that she looked forward to meeting me in the flesh, something that I found quite understandable. I think she wanted to meet legendary sex dog me because my web log periodically emits tiny amounts of a stimulating and addictive pheromone due to special software I developed for this very purpose. Sure, I know it's not sporting but I've pretty much reached the end of my pick-up-chicks bag of tricks, see Doesn't Ploy Well With Others. [I actually sat here for a minute trying to see if I could work a clever phrase about "licks" into the previous sentence but then decided that your laptops might blow up if I did. See, I look out for both you and your hardware. -- The Management]
So it's obvious why she wanted to meet me. The reasons I looked forward to meeting her are twofold: 1) she is a living breathing possibly-real woman with a custom interior and leather seating, MSRP $52,800 equipped as shown; and 2) in her blog bio she claims to have perfect eyebrows. The first reason needs no further explanation, and as for the second, I admit I was curious: what the hell are perfect eyebrows? I never even knew there were such things as perfect eyebrows, let alone that some woman in the Twin Cities might be the owner of said eyebrows. And what are the odds of her having not just a perfect left eyebrow or a perfect right eyebrow but two perfect eyebrows? So in a spirit of scientific inquiry I was anxious to find at least one answer to the perennial question, "What the fuck?"
Jen agreed to met me at Nina's, and when she walked into the crowded cafe there was an immediate cessation of conversation as every head turned her way. A profoundly silent moment of shock and awe followed which was only broken when someone coughed in a house three blocks away. Apparently the other people in the cafe had never seen perfect eyebrows before either.
After graciously receiving the crowd's rapt attention as her just due Jen came over to where I was sitting. I stood up and smiled and said "Hi, you must be Jen, I'm Hulles and it's very nice to meet you." Actually, this is what I meant to say; what I actually said was "Mmph!" since her tongue was down my throat and her hands were clamped onto my ass like Vise Grips. Once I disentangled her and managed to convince her that I was serious about never having sex the first five minutes of a first date (I'm a nice boy!) we got along just fine.
To be serious for just a second, of course it wasn't a date and Jen is a chaste and demure young woman who would rather stick her tongue into an operating garbage disposal than into the Hulles mouthhold. Truth be told, I think the only reason she wanted to meet me at all was because I pissed her off when I said she was "p.r." (possibly real) in the Hulles Mythos and she wanted it changed to an "r." even if it meant confronting me in person. Which is of course why I made it "p.r." in the first place. Regardless, I had a wonderful time meeting both Jen and her eyebrows and enjoyed our ensuing conversation a lot. But what fun is that to write about? And she really does have perfect eyebrows. Really. Who knew?
Perfect eyebrows aside, I'll refrain from commenting upon the rest of Jen's physical appearance (hot) other than to say that she has flashing and sparkling brown eyes. This came as something of a surprise to me because I hadn't really gotten that from the Web videos she's been in. Maybe it was the black bar across them.
Well, looks like I found something to blog about after all, so thanks Jen. You earned your "r." Unfortunately I have to end this entry rather abruptly since Phase Two of the Mexican Windbreaker is about to kick in. This is where my eyeballs pop out and land in someone's chai and the storm arrives that was only presaged by distant thunder in Phase One. Later. Gotta run.