Salami Swami

Sometimes unplanned nights are the most memorable.

To the girl, whose name I can’t remember atm, but who’s favorite color is navy, I shall always cherish our in depth discussion of our love life history. This, despite the fact that at the time you were quite intoxicated and peeing, and I was standing in a bathtub cowering because i met you 23 minutes ago and I’m excruciatingly uncomfortable with peeing around/being peed around. Don’t worry about not getting 25 facts on that guy you were kissing. You had 18 written on your arm and I still think that, if you round up, 20 is a perfectly acceptable number of facts to have written on you before playing tonsil hockey.

To the lady half-heartedly charging 5 bucks to get into the bar, it was an honor to blow bubbles with you. I was relieved that you agree that concave nipples are weird. Charlie was intoxicated and his nipple theories are obviously deranged.

To the waitress at ihop, I give you the award for best response to a cheesy pickup line for you’re performance in
“You have beautiful eyes.”
“Thanks, they’re poop colored.”
Your response was eloquent, deadpan, and efficient in shutting him down. I’m sorry he licked both your bottles of tabasco sauce and blueberry syrup. If it makes you feel any better, I’m fairly certain he doesn’t have any communicable diseases, and he’s house broken. I swear he didn’t mean to be racist when he called you salami swami.

Thank you, and good night.

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