Wrecking Taylor

I sat down tonight in order to write a funny article but had no idea what to write…as has been the issue for the last week or so – thus is the problem with jeeniuses (see what I did there?).

Anyway, my friend “Taylor” (who is very pretty) gave me permission to completely annihilate her on this site.  When I asked, “Really?”, she, (like any girl) says “no, but I’d love to be the subject.”  Very well then Taylor, you little attention hooker….here you go.

I had first met Taylor between 5-9 years ago – I can’t be sure of the time frame because I’ve both drank and slept since then.  She was a tall drink of water – blonde, slender, tattooed and she had eyes that presented mixed feelings…something of a cross of getting a hand job and your ass kicked…maybe both at the same time, I don’t know, but that’s the most descriptive analogy you’re going to get.

jesi taylor scott vincent

See? Hot eyes.

So Taylor had this attitude problem and here is where we clashed.   She thought she could just waltz on in and be some hot girl that everyone wanted and take attention away from me. It should be noted at this moment that on the floor of the company I worked (and most management), I was the baddest motherfucker ever made.  I took her presence as a distinct threat on my territory.  Those eyes turned from handjobs to hand grenades and I treated them as such.

Taylor was the girl who was looked at and talked about.  After some time, my best buddy ever informed me that they were dating.  This didn’t give me a feeling of jealousy (maybe a little), but rather a feeling of confusion and anger.  I was wondering why my best friend would go all Taliban and side with the enemy.  She was dating the boss, a threat to my command and now she had an inside resource and that resource was a very prominent component of my drinking, hanging out and dude time.  I was left alone in combat…which was fine with me because I was a combat veteran and slightly resembled this guy:


…so you can image where this was going.  My friend (I shall call him Julio from here on out), used to do these things to me.  We went out drinking one time and he knew I had this thing for glasses, skirts and high heels.  So of course he and Taylor show up at our usual bar and she’s wearing glasses, heels and a torn jean skirt.  This was done intentionally to fuck with me.  I have a feeling it’s because I was there with my whoorish ex-girlfriend and they were trying to rid her of the group…which eventually worked.  Regardless, that’s when I started looking at Taylor in a different light.  She was a cool girl.  She pissed me off, but was cool…kind of like Schlitz malt liquor that’s been left in a freezer.

After some time hanging out with them there was another incident where we were playing pool at the local shit-hole and we were completely wasted.  It’s at this point that there was a black girl giving everyone shit (we lived in Idaho).  She was saying that nobody knew what it was like to be black, and began calling us names.  It was as this point that Julio told her that he was half-black – which he is…him and his brother…both of which began to tell her that she didn’t know what it was like to be half black.  As this is going on, I’m pulling the babysitter role and making sure that Taylor isn’t falling off of her stool.  At this point the black girl started calling me a rapist and suggesting to EVERY PERSON IN THE BAR that I had slipped Taylor a mickey (rape drug).  Why would she say this?  Because I’m white.  I’m not sure why she didn’t suggest that Julio had slipped her a half of a mickey since he’s technically half guilty of my stereotype, but she didn’t.  Regardless, the situation was getting volatile, so I took Taylor outside (which was no easy task) while Julio took care of the lunatic.

It was outside in the car that Taylor told me that I wasn’t that bad…shortly before she threw up.  What a good situation that was…puking and saying I’m not bad.  That’s why we talk to this day.  I had submitted the enemy with love.

Don’t get me wrong, usually if you throw up then tell me I’m an “ok dude”, I’ll probably draw dicks on your face and laugh…but I’d take care of you.  Taylor did it and it just squashed whatever conflict we had between us.  She’s still someone to talk to now that I’ve moved away and she cheers me up when I happen to be down now and then…I love her to pieces.

Who on Earth would have ever thought the Taliban would be ok chicks.

Categories: Humor

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