Wednesday, November 16, 2005

The More Things Change...

Last night Princess of Darkness came by my office to pay me the cash she owed me, plus "interest" which in this case turned out to be one pack each of Wild Berry Skittles, Sweedish Fish and Sugar Babies. I don't think I can eat the Sugar Babies because my fear of the dentist in this case supersedes my love for junkie movie theater candy. As expected, POD pulled back her lips and sunk her piranha teeth into my leg, as in, she decided to hang out in my office and wait for me to finish even though I already told her that I needed to work late. Then she took the subway home with me, even though it took her out of the way from her apartment. I told her if she tried to follow me into my home, I would call the cops. I think she knew I was serious.

While hanging around my office, she poked around everywhere and drank some flavored coffee creamers because she is biologically incapable of passing up free food, even if it falls in the condiment category. As he was leaving for the night, G2 none to subtly checked out her ass.

My life is becoming very predictable.

8 comments:

brendar said...

I love Sugar Babies! But they do tend to loosen your fillings.

Cupcake said...

I once lost a filling ... in Minneapolis. I was just flossing, and out it popped. What resulted was a zany, painful adventure, accent on painful. Just looking at Sugar Babies makes me want to hyperventillate.

But hey, someone's gotta buy 'em. I'm a Sno-caps girl myself. w

Joshua said...

This Princess of darkness sounds interesting...is she a real princess?

Cupcake said...

Oh boy. The Princess of Darkness is a princess of insanity. She has slept about a total of 14 hours since I've known her and she is constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. That being said, she is very interesting and captivating for the first and possibly second times you meet her. Then you will begin avoiding her like the Bird Flu.

She lives in Park Slope and is very easy to run into, because she is lonely, I think. If you meet someone with curly hair and half a Brittish accent who loves to name drop Editors at The New Yorker, ask her if she is the Princess of Darkness. She knows who she is.

jesse said...

"biologically incapable of passing up free food." Maybe it's wrong, but I think I love her.

Joshua said...

Yeah, I sorta share that problem. Ask my boss.
Half a British accent/curly hair huh? That does sound familiar. Does she read your blog? Is she going to hunt me down and eat me and be pretentious at me now? Aah. So she knows she's the POD and you guys are friends?
Also, what on earth did you do to your friend's cats that a.) Nerve would want to read it? and b.) Hitler would want to read it?

Cupcake said...

As I've noted above, I think Nerve was the wrong market. I'll have to post the tale of the kitties now (pun intended).

I don't know what bars you frequent, but perhaps you have run into POD. She still calls me sometimes, totally wasted, at 2am begging me to come to The Gate to pick up guys with her. This is where never answering the phone comes in handy. POD used to be my roommate, and I think she read the blog then, because she enjoyed reading about herself. If you go back in the archives you can read stories about her. Also, she had no shame in being the POD, in fact, she would frequently sign her comments with her full name. As far as being friends ...

Joshua said...

Damn it, I did got back into the archives. I need to be working, but POD is so evily intriguing. I stopped at the beans and ass soap story, because it had gone too far.
I've been to Gate on many occasions, but I think it smells weird. Perhaps this is where POD comes into play.