Where Pick-Up Lines Go To Die.

My friend Tiffany has an annual birthday party (kind of redundant, eh?) where we all dress us as Christmas creatures (Santas, elves, trees, what have you) and we wander the streets of Uptown Dallas in search of the cheapest/strongest drinks we cn find. This journey typically ends at a place with karaoke, because really, who needs cheap drinks when you can have "Like a Virgin" belted out by a guy in a Santa suit? No one. That's who.

Soooo...as usual our evening ended at Uptown Bar and Grill, where they do, in fact, have karaoke. And I was in heaven. There is very little I love more in this world that karaoke.



Tommy and I dressed as presents the previous year because we are cheap - Santa suits are expensive and for about $3 we could cut arm and head holes out of a box and just wear that. Little did we know that presents are sex magnets. Seriously.

And yes, we were both fully clothed under said boxes.

I think there is something about the innuendos that are associated with saying things like, "Oh, nice box", and "I just touched your box", and "Can I see the inside of your box"...just to name a few. People are so creative. NOT. Anyways, when you are walking through a crowded bar and running into people with your box all night, you tend to hear all the innuendos you could possibly imagine.

Sooo, this year, because we are still cheap and because wearing the box means never having to find a table to put your drink on, we went as presents again.

And still, the peoples of Dallas loved it. Box joke after box joke after box joke. I'm telling you, if you are single, wrap a uhaul box, put a bow on your head and head out to paint the town red. If I didn't already have my own present to take home and unwrap, I can gaurantee I would have had success. Badum bum cha!

But, the highlight of my evening, and quite possibly my whole life (nevermind this Ironman crap), was when a guy came up to me and said, "Hey, I really like your box", with a twinkle in his eye. I, of course, having heard this line before was unfazed and turned to walk away.

He had other plans though. He grabbed my arm and said, "What's your favorite dinosaur?"

At this point, I'm thinking to myself that I MUST know where this is going. Where can the dino question lead? Surely not to his bedroom filled with lifesize dino replicas? Because that's just creepy. So, I say the first dinosaur that pops into my head..."Triceratops", I say.

He says, "Oh, so you like to fly and soar above the trees?"

And I respond with, "No, you freaking idiot. That's a pterodactyl. If you're gonna lead with the dino question, at least know your dinosaurs."

Seriously?

So, I am very grateful that I don't have date Ross Gellar's idiot brother and instead, I get to be married to this guy who is entirely okay with wearing a bow in his hair all night.



Seriously, if you're single, don a box and a bow. It's a sure thing. I'm serious.