Last night, I went to a free Johnnie Walker tasting with my roomate F, our friend D, and D's cute little girlfriend A. I was uninspired - call it one too many nights double dating with my completely platonic F and our happily coupled friends. Plus, I really don't like whiskey. So the highlight of the event had to be seeing my dream Miu Miu patent Mary Janes. On somebody else.
Afterwards, as usual, we all piled into D's house, drinking too-sweet concoctions that F made under D's watchful eye. And then the Kama Sutra talk. It all started with a group viewing of the 77 position book A gave her boyfriend...complete with comments from both of them: "That one takes strong arms" "That one is great for the guy" "You have to rub his balls." Right-o.
According to D, our local connoisseur of all finer things in life, a Indian man had to please 8 girls at once. Two with his hands, two with his feet, one with his mouth, and one with "that." Oh yes, and two masturbating. To further illustrate his point, out went the arms and the legs in a motion I can only describe as spinning plates. And, according to F, all the while dirty talking in an Indian accent. Oh my. And so forever this image ingrained in my memory: my two skinny white boys, spinning plates with arms and legs, bouncing in their chairs, talking sexy in weird accents. Oh my.
A good laugh can be worth some whiskey.
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