Yesterday’s performance at the pin shoot was, in a term, piss poor, and I’ll have a report on that tomorrow, with pics.
Today is going to be a day of doing nothing for me, although I’m sure that I’ll screw that up somehow too.
I’m still waiting for an answer from the good Professor on his whereabouts. I wish I could say that this isn’t like him, but it must be the third or fourth time I’ve known him to meander off and stay out of contact in the years that I’ve known him.
Speaking of the years I’ve known him, I think I’ll see if I can accelerate his return with a tale he hates to have told; How he and I became aquainted.
He doesn’t really ‘hate’ it, but it does annoy him quite a bit.
You see, around the mid 90’s (probably late 94/early 95 or so) Booty was dating a girl named Hannah. The Professor was still a semi-professional photographer then, working odd jobs to keep food on the table and taking photos to meet girls and maintain his equipment.
As it tuned out, I too was dating Hannah, but it took us both about three to four months to figure out that she was playing a game with the two of us. You see, she was a damn near total psycho and drama queen. She would drop subtle hints and leave clues that would lead us to each other, which it inevitably did.
Unfortunately for her, neither of us really cared. The Professor has never looked for a long term relationship from any woman and I was seeing another girl on the side of Hannah and we were both getting tapped by her rather regularly, so we sort of had a meeting of the minds and decided to see how long we could play her out.
That wasn’t the smartest thing two guys have ever done. After another month or so, she wanted a confrontation out of us and when we refused, she hit the ceiling like a bunker buster.
It was so funny to watch that the Professor and I went out of her apartment laughing our asses off and on to the bar down the road where we got monkey faced drunk.
And the rest, as they say, is history and we’ve been in contact regularly ever since.
Since Booty was a photog, he has, lets say, a multitude of photos of his past girlfriends and most of his hook-ups.
Including Hannah.
Goofy broad, as usual, enthralled with herself.