You can get with this or you can get with that

I returned to Top Rocking today. We rocked to Black Sheep's The Choice Is Yours. Anti-authority was in full effect as we ignored the staff's five-minute warning and went overtime for a couple of minutes as they and the Lockin' teacher, who was scheduled to teach next, helplessly looked on. Eric at one point joked about how my improvised grapevine was in the music video for the song. In the end, he jokingly yelled at me - "I need more from you! You're the frontrunner!" - and then pushed Bop to confidently get more in the center. ("And I need you to get in there!")

In the lounge getting coffee afterward, there was this jackoffable french girl - long, curly blond hair, though with an almost-Jewish nose - dressed in gray sweat pants and a pink hooded sweater in a Hip Hop sort of way. She and her accent are in my database. Although I'll admit the only type of sex I'll ever have with a french girl is anger sex due to the hate crimes committed against Americans in france. And by "Americans," I mean me.

I went to Church, which is rare for me on a Saturday, because mommy told me to as we'll be busy for cousin Andree's Birthday tomorrow. I saw independent pro-wrestler The Awesome Plague, or Shannon as he untraditionally introduced himself by his real name when I last saw him. (See entry 1/30/11.)

At the mall, I got more free samples at Hickory Farms. The dude introduced himself as Andy. He's only been living in California for two months, originally from the Bronx - which I've suspected due to his accented pronunciation of "cheddar" - and looks white despite a Spanish parent. He mentioned how a wannabe wing-man once tried to introduce them both to girls as stuntmen, which didn't work, but is impressed that I can actually say it. He also told me of an old school Filipino singer/guitarist named Freddie Aguilar whose song Anak is "the best song in the world."

At Barnes & Noble, the ethnically ambiguous Monica stood next to me as I was kneeling down, checking out books on a lower shelf, as if she wanted me to orally copulate her. But later on, as I was skimming through Jujitsu books after the store was already closed and she found me hiding ...

MONICA: You know we're closed, right?
RYAN: I was waiting for you to say something.
MONICA: Oh, it's 11:04, so we're past closed. But thanks.

We spoke! That's, like, verbal sex!

But in a perfect world, she would've added to her last sentence, "But thanks ... for waiting for me to say something," followed by cheesy dialogue that would've had her leading me to an empty spot since the store was closed and bow chicka wow wow ...

At home, I busted a #3 to Becca from yesterday. (See entry 11/25/11.)