"...we found love in a hopeless place..."
Yesterday started out like any normal Saturday. I woke up, went to the gym, came home, cried in the shower and searched for a cupcake to absorb the calories that I had just lost. As I unwrapped a frosting coated delicacy from the comfort of my own bed, I could have never imagined what happened next.
Out of nowhere, a friend called and invited me to her housewarming party. I begrudgingly accepted the invitation with the promise of free alcohol and microwaveable pizza snacks. As I arrived, I headed straight for the liquor and walked passed a group of rhythmically challenged individuals who were bumping and grinding to what seemed like an endless remix of "Please Don't Stop the Music".
As I judged them with my eyes, I gathered together a delightful array of lukewarm pizza rolls and poured myself a potentially lethal concoction of alcohol into a plastic cup. I then leaned against a wall and looked on as I stuffed my face with abnormal amounts of formerly frozen food.
(There's nothing quite like a good, pizza roll.)
As I placed the last of my delicious snacks into my mouth and washed it down with a mixture of high grade vodka and mouthwash, I felt a hand caress my arm. Obviously attracted by the scent of my discount store cologne, I looked over to see who it was and there she stood. Right in front of me was none other than Rihanna. Yes, THE Rihanna. Not some half-hearted, street hooker look-alike but rather the reigning pop queen, Rihanna.
I choked a little bit on my drink and introduced myself to my Barbadian princess. "Uhhh, hello!", I stammered but she just quietly put her finger to her mouth and whispered "Shhh!"
(Talk that talk? No. Just be quiet!)
Just then, multiple renditions of her chart topping songs hit the airwaves and she pushed me against the wall, climbed against my fragile frame and wrapped her legs tightly around my waist. As the music pulsated, she began dancing and flailing around in that uniquely Caribbean dance style that many people confuse for dry humping.
(My delicate island flower dancing her assets off.)
As the music reached its' fever pitch and my thighs were moments away from giving in to the pressure being thrust upon them, a car drove straight through the front door. Horrified, I grabbed my little island love and tossed her down a flight of stairs to avoid her being hit by the car. As I turned around, I saw the car coming straight for me and then...
I woke up! Covered in the remnants of a half-eaten cupcake and the slobber that can only be created from a deep sleep, I realized that it had all been a distant dream. Desperate to try and recreate my famous dream encounter, I kept trying to force myself back to sleep. Sadly though, the closest that I could get was a version where Rihanna morphed into Oprah and we had a fight over the last slice of dessert at a Pizza Hut buffet.
Choosing to avoid that nightmare, I rolled over, licked some icing from my hand and forced myself to join the world of the awake again. Oh well, RiRi, it was good while it lasted.
(Dessert Pizza is one of my favorite things!!!)