Ok so last night as I was enjoying a nicotine treat in the backyard of le palais, I turned around and realized that yes, I had locked myself out in sweatpants and slippers. After calling my roomies who were out having dinner and not wanting to become a dale-cicle, I scaled the wall surrounding my backyard and went around to the front of my house.... no luck. The front door was already locked from the inside. So being the resourceful young gentleman I figured out that I'm slight enough that my arm fits into the mail slot and I opened the door that way.
As both Chip and Dudley can attest to, I've done a little crouching tiger hidden dragon action at Dudleys place when I had to get a ciggarette butt last friday.
Yeah I'm a crafty little mo'. Cuz it aint the first time I've cloak and daggered my way out of a sticky situation.....
Sophomore year during a drunken stumble home..... ok ok so I wasn't actually walking as much as being carried by one of my many straight football bf's, but in any event I dropped my dorm keys into the snow. For those of you unaware the snow in Maine lasts from November to March/April. In any event we didn't have proximity cards to get into our dorms, good ole fashioned keys were the name of the game. So I learned how to pick the lock on my dorm room door with a hairpin and my student ID. Yup did it for 3 months til the snow melted.
So when I was living in london I was employed by a club as a dancer. No I didn't take my clothes off nor did I do anything that would compromise my status as a true Lady however I worked that pole like there was no tomorrow.... the fact that the british as a people, gay, straight, whatever, have the dancing rhythm of a straight man on a blind date didn't hurt my cause. ANYWAYS, one night after having access to the open bar and the very genial bartenders who always loved me after I got a little "Gone with the Gin" as Chip so aptly put it, and my southern drawl was in full effect. I had gotten off the platform and was re-hydrating (re-hydrating with grey goose) when a gentleman came up to me and asked me for my number. *For some reason to this day I can recite all 11 digitz *. In any event because I was tired from dancing for 4 hours and drunk, I gave it to him. However, after my next shift I sobered up as the ridiculous amount of cardio that was dancing would do, and I knew I didn't want him having my phone number. So when I took another H2O break I went right up to him, he wasn't drunk btw, and started dancing with him (btw this was frowned upon by the management but I explained myself) and in my bump and grind...... picked his pockets, got my phone number out and tucked it back into my work shorts. :)
So next time I'm out, don't be suprised if I matrix it all out on y'all!!! :)