Once upon a time my friend Dave came home from a night out on the town and regaled us with tales of him meeting an extremely hot girl. “She looks like Shania Twain,” Dave said. We all congratulated him and toasted him in his honor, hoping that his first child would be a manly child.
We didn’t meet Brooke right away but things were becoming apparent that Brooke had a mild case of “biological clock disorder”. Brooke was in her mid thirties and it was fairly obvious that the next relationship she got into would be leading down the path to marriage, pretty much no matter what. Within two weeks she was already talking about getting a place with Dave, as well as trying to reform him. One night over the phone, Dave and her got into an argument over him going to a concert without her, you know a concert he bought tickets for before he even knew her. While we all considered these warning signs Dave pressed on, because according to him she looked like Shania Twain.
Finally Dave brought her over to our apartment, we were all psyched to see what she looked like. Now I have never applied and probably will never apply makeup in my lifetime, but since I have dated women I understand the concept of blending and the rudimentary concepts of makeup application. Brooke apparently learned to apply makeup at clown school because she looked like Mimi from the Drew Carey Show.
Dave was dating a clown that just happened to have a nice body. Now I don’t want to be a shallow person here so let me tell you about her glowing personality. From the second she walked into our apartment she pretty much took over, criticizing what we had on the walls, etc. She told us that the place needed a woman’s touch, Mark, my other housemate and I kept shooting glances at each other like Jim mugging for the camera in the Office. We knew Brooke had designs on wanting to bunk with Dave, which wasn’t good for us.
We were watching the Howard Stern show on E! and they were doing their normal bit where they were asking strippers general trivia questions. One of the questions for example was, “How many states are there in the United States?” They would ask the stripper the question and takes bets if she knew it or not. Brooke sat down on the couch and started saying how the girl wasn’t that attractive and that the girl was an idiot. After fifteen minutes of hearing Brooke babble on, to the point where we couldn’t even hear the tv, I decided to ask her, “So Brooke do you know the answers to these questions?”
Silence filled the room.
It then hit me that Brooke didn’t know any of the answers. I offered to pay her five dollars for every question she got right. Brooke got very upset and turned to Mark and I yelling, “I don’t have ANYTHING to prove to you guys.” She got up and stomped into Dave’s room, followed by her and Dave having sex and her making it rather known that God was in the room with them because she kept shouting his name.
The next day Dave came home from work sans Brooke and with one of his co-workers, as we were all going to go to happy hour. We were sitting in the living room and busting Dave’s balls about Brooke while we were waiting for another friend to arrive, Dave thought he could one up us, “Yeah well you guys had to hear me plowing her last night, I think I almost knocked her out because her face kept hitting the head board.”
I sprung out of the chair and ran to Dave’s room and looked into it shouting, “You liar Dave, if you did that we would be able to see her clown face on your headboard. I don’t see any runny makeup here at all. Plus if she put the sheets over her head it would look like the Shroud of Turin. ”
Mark fell off of the couch laughing and Dave was silenced, his co-worker turned to him and said, “That bitch does wear too much makeup.”
Dave and Brooke lasted about another week….
Lesson learned: I have no idea, what should the lesson be?