Wayne's World

And then there's this... 

Last Thursday my ever so charming roommate decided to set up an appointment with AT&T to switch over our internet providers, but failed to mention it. He is all about the dollar bills, so is typically out the door to get to work as I am just getting into bed from the night before. I was busy drooling onto my pillow and dreaming about what I would do if I had Bieber alone in my bathroom with a curling iron and a bowl of hot wax, when my buzzer rings. Perfect. I quickly bring the hair styling session to a close as I go from girlishly delighted to T-Rex mad - who is responsible for ruining my waxing session? With my eyes sewn shut, I army crawl to the door and greet the intruder with an extremely aggravated “YEAH?” (Imagine how deep this could come across had you been a smoker for 15 years, a drinker for 13 and burned an inch of meat off your esophagus due to putting hot sauce on all items edible). The bro says he’s from AT&T and is here to hook up my net. So naturally, without asking questions, I buzz him up. For all I know this man could be Fidel Urbina.

Side Note: For those of you who aren't up to speed, Fidel Urbina is a wanted fugitive running loose in the Chicago-land area for the past 15 years accused of raping and murdering numerous women. He’s successfully remained on the FBI’s Top Ten Most Wanted list and I’m pretty sure I made out with him the other night at a bar in Wrigley.

Back to the story.. After drowning my eyes with illegal contact solution, I quickly realized I had just let Xhibit enter the apartment. For a second I thought he was here to pimp my ride, but to my disappointment, he left his rims at home. He introduced himself as Wayne, and gave me the whole spiel on how he would disconnect my old services and hook me up AT&T style – what a professional. I cautiously led Wayne into my bedroom where all of the ports were conveniently located behind piles of dirty clothes and a pizza box or seven. His need to dig through my shit to find the proper outlets delayed his work, so we got to talking. At this point he was attempting to move around furniture, fold and hang my laundry, then dove fist deep into a pile of panties and delicates to connect the first wire. Lil’ Wayne’s job was becoming more arduous as time went on.

A quick set up suddenly turned into a 3 hour chill session. Before I knew it, he was calling me “T” and we were chain smoking cigs on the back deck, menthol of course. It had completely slipped my mind that he was my cable guy and my internet was still nowhere near being hooked up. Though after 13 years in the business, Wayne certainly had some tales to tell and I had nothing but time. He started off by telling me when he installed cable for Miss Iowa (circa 1992).

“T, she answered the door wearin’ nothin’.. but.. water. So she was all naked, rubbin her titties on my back, trying to see what wires I was connecting, and I was just trying to wait for my boner to pass”.

What a gentlemen.

His story began to build as did his excitement – The next thing I know he’d added voices and plot lines and props. Hand over fist he expertly continued on using my Mormon boss’s laptop, a black lace brassiere, and all 7 of my pillows. In his florescent uniform, he was perched on all fours dry humping my futon, impersonating how Miss Iowa wanted her “monkey” punished. Raising a brow, I quickly clarified that “monkey” was another word for pussycat. He pushed back into child’s pose exhausted as his story came to a close. I exhaled delighted and spent, wanting another cigarette.

After he left, I showered his stories off of my body, lit a candle and said a prayer, then went on about my day. It’s safe to say I now have high speed internet, a new best friend named Wayne, and can tell you anything you want to know about Miss Iowa’s monkey.

Cheers to Perfect Strangers and Monkey Business,

Ti-Bag