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Mr. OB and Irrational Fears
It has been quite a while since I have shared any conversations with my geriatric boyfriend Mr. OB. Since I can now type again, I can’t think of a better way to get back into the swing of posting than to give you some more disturbing pictures of his character. If you don’t know who Mr. OB is (short for Mr. Outback), I’ll tell you now, you won’t ever get an accurate bio of him. Here or anywhere for that matter. But you can infer what you will about him from my series of stories here and by reading the rest of this post.
Look closely, this is the most you will ever see of Mr. OB
I had the pleasure of another long overdue dinner and visitation with Mr. OB a few nights ago. It is yet to be determined if he was or was not stoned. Not that that serves as a logical reason that the following conversation occurred, but he seemed bit… paranoid.
We said our hellos first:
Mr. OB: “What’s wrong with you?”
Me: “Nothing?”
Mr. OB: “Oh, you look funny”
Me: Well my arm was swallowed by a first aid kit, but other than that…
On topics of medical experiences, needles, and the like.
Me: “Wait, so you think if you put a needle in your leg that you will accidentally pull back on the syringe and suck out your insides?”
Mr. OB: “Well yeah, I don’t know what is in there!”
Me: “You mean, in your body?”
Mr. OB: “Yeah! And I don’t want to know.”
Me: “You know, I don’t think needles work like plungers and turkey basters. Wait, why are you stabbing yourself with needles in the first place?”
Mr. OB: Mumbles something about bees and tractors running into trees
On blenders:
Mr. OB: “When that thing comes on at Outback, I am ducking behind the register. The blade is coming out of that thing and it’s flying across the bar and straight into my neck.” making dramatic throat slicing motion
Me: “Because that blender blade has had it out for you since it found out you only drink wine, right?”
Mr. OB: “I’ve seen it happen.”
Me: Well I am sure a lot of people “see” things that would never happen. Ever heard of intrusive thoughts? Hallucinations? Paranoia?
Mr. OB: “You just wait. I’m telling you. It’s gonna happen. I just hope it won’t be me. But it will probably be me.”
Me: to the bartender “Can I get a frozen margarita? Well blended please?”
Check out my latest vlog in the sidebar on the most obvious topic of all. The internet. ———————————————————————————->
Mr. OB and The Champagne Bath
I tweeted yesterday that I was going to have an interactive post today. I had a really dope idea, but then WordPress slapped me in the face and said, “You can’t do that, lol sry”.
Instead, and to make up for the intended dopeness, I will give you another sexy story straight from Mr. OB himself. This one doesn’t include cat S&M, but there will be ducks. This is probably the first story he ever told me that crossed the line of what is considered to be a normal conversation between two bar guests of a forty-year age difference. Or, more accurately, the moment when too much information lost all meaning and an atypical friendship was born:
Sitting in our usual positions at the restaurant bar.
Mr OB: “Where are you going tonight?”
Me: “No where. Home.”
Mr. OB: “Yeah, sure. You’ll be at [secret bar name] smoking all those cigarettes.”
Me: “No really. I am going home to relax, may even take a bath.”
Mr. OB: “You got any champagne?”
Me: “Uh… you’re not invited.”
Mr. OB: “It’s not for me. It’s for the champagne bath.”
Me: “What the fuck is a champagne bath OB?” Read the rest of this entry