Sophia came out of the bathroom wearing a brown dress and flats.
“You can’t wear that,” I said. “Wear the short dress and the hooker shoes with the heels. This is a MALE blogger we are meeting. His wife is going to be there. I’ve seen a picture of her. She’s very good-looking. YOU have to be HOTTER.”
“Why?”
“It’a a male competitive thing. I mean all men love their women and respect them and all that stuff, but when it comes down to the nitty gritty, we just want to show the other guy that our babe is foxier.”
“I thought we were coming to Vegas to gamble or see a show, not spending time with bloggers. Don’t you spend enough time online?”
“This is not just any run-of-the-mill blogger we are meeting. This is Black Hockey Jesus. His blog, Wind Under Her Vagina, is very popular.”
“Is he more popular than you?”
“Uh, well… yeah. Bastard. Now do you understand why I want you to wear the hooker shoes?”
“Is he a good writer?”
“People say that he is one of the best.”
“What does he write about?”
“How the f**k would I know? I don’t waste my time reading blogs by men! I figure that because of his name, he is a black Christian guy who writes about hockey.”
“So, why are we meeting him?”
“For one reason only. He knows the The Bloggess.”
“Oh, she is so funny! Why can’t YOU be as funny?”
“Yeah, anyway. I figure that if I can get in good with this dude, The Bloggess may talk to me at BlogHer, and someone will take a photograph of the The Bloggess talking with me, and it will be published on some blog, and my traffic will SOAR!”
“If you don’t know anything about this Black Hockey Jesus and his wife, what are we going to talk about. I’m not going to sit there for two hours listening to you talk about Twitter or gossiping about Dooce.”
“This is EXACTLY why our marriage is failing. You don’t understand your role as the wife.  You’re supposed to show up with the hooker shoes and laugh at my jokes. A half hour into the meal, I want you to lean over to me, as if to whisper, but saying it loud enough for the others to hear, and say, “I wish the OTHER COUPLE wasn’t here, because I am so turned on by you, I would give you a blowjob right now.”
“Yeah, right. You would be the one freaking out if any woman tried to do that to you. You would be screaming, “What are you doing? Are you crazy? We’re in public! I’m not ready yet!”
“You’re an actress. Think improv.”
The story, rushed because Sophia is anxious to get out and gamble — Last night, Black Hockey Jesus and his wife, J, picked us up at our hotel and took us to their favorite sushi place in Las Vegas. I have a love/hate relationship with this blogger. He is a terrific writer, but he came out of nowhere a year ago and stole half of my readership. He forced me to work harder on my blog posts. In the old days, penis jokes were enough to get comments. Now, I have to WORK for my no pay. I was hoping to meet him while in Vegas, and get some dirt on him, and destroy his budding writing career.
And yes, I have found his Achilles heel. He is not the arrogant jerk like he is on his blog. He is SWEET and FRIENDLY and LOVING with his wife. He lives in a suburban community and worries about the kids.
Now, let’s talk about ME. I pose as a “nice guy” on my blog, but I am the TRUE JERK. I ogle the breasts of women, and honk at old ladies crossing the street. I have an unstable marriage and find your children annoying.
I AM THE REAL REBEL. You should be reading my blog, NOT his. Reading his blog over mine is like reading Garfield over Kafka.
He is a fraud, just like Las Vegas herself.
But his wife is really nice. And hot.  But mine has an accent, bigger boobs, and hooker heels.  So there!
Look, no matter what you do, it’s very unlikely The Bloggess will talk to you because she does not like crowds of people and will almost certainly avoid you.
Sorry to break it to you like this but better that you find a new goal to fame and fortune.
And how long are you going to milk this “failing” marriage of yours? Before you know it, you’re going to have been married for 60 years and then how are you going to explain your marriage has been “failing” for 50 years.
you make me giggle.
and I promise I won’t tell ANYONE how nice you are. 😉
so no one got a blow job?
I don’t get it. Where was the part where you talked about ME for two hours? I GAVE YOU TWO EXPLICIT INSTRUCTIONS. Wait, is that what you’re gonna do tonight?
Your blog is so good that I stopped trying to make mine good. Not really, but I thought it would be a nice thing to say.
I always do my part to try to look hotter than the girlfriends/wives of the Captain’s friends. See? I’ll make a great wife.
Yeah, I’m totally going over to visit BHJ’s blog now.
Your wife has an accent? No competition there. She wins hands down.
PS. Thanks for telling me about another great blog to check out 😉
came over from maggie’s reader…good story! but where are the pictures?
The Bloggess is funny. Are you going to see cirque du soliel…I totally wanted to go but the guy I was with cheapskated out while we were in vegas. bastard.
I don’t know that you can compete with him via your wife. Got to go in a completely different direction. How about you get some big breast implants and wear those hooker heels yourself. I understand there is a big demand in the “Chicks with dicks” market.
Small chest, does not own a pair of hooker heels, laughs too loud, thinks too much, but is writing this from Europe. Does that make me cool?
But what rolls did you order?
And I bet the wives were comparing notes on you two guys.
Off to check out BHJ’s blog.
You do check out women’s boobs but you try to play it off. Badly.
😉
Never heard of the Bloggess.
who, pray is the Blogess?
Doesn’t Garfield read Kafka?
ooooooooooooooooooo, another male blogger, and one that can write, there’s just not enough of those around, i might just have to…
Oh neil, you are too funny.
Garfield over Kafka!
That part literally made me laugh aloud. Brilliant!
I hate to break it to you, but my wife has an even BETTER accent, even HIGHER hooker heels, and she’s been known to periodically donate portions of her boobs to the needy, not unlike (but more important/life-sustaining than) a partial liver transplant.
Also, I’m such a badass that when I would otherwise be describing to you how much of a bigger badass I am, I’m out pushing old ladies into traffic and drinking milk past its expiration date.
I call that a slow Monday morning.
Can’t I just keep reading both?
I grant you that Soph has a nice rack, but you know why I read you instead of BHJ? Because I feel needed here. Because you tap into my inner mother/sister, and I totally want to take care of you in a non-sexual, let’s-just-be-friends kind of way.
Does BHJ have THAT? No!
“You don’t understand your role as the wife. You’re supposed to show up with the hooker shoes and laugh at my jokes.”
What kind of ceremony did you guys have? because those two things were definitely in my vows.
maybe you should use your time in Las Vegas to renew your vows, I’m pretty sure anyone who gets married there has to say “I do” to the above, too 😉
If it makes you feel any better, you’re my favorite female blogger!
I’ve never met Sophia, but I have met BHJ’s wife, and you are right. She is hot.
On second thought, you’ve been traveling way too much this year, and I feel somewhat abandoned. As if my boobs never really mattered.
That’s the problem with semi-single, kinda not male bloggers. They leave you as soon as there’s a semi-ex-wife, a BlogHer, a beach, or a casino comes around.
I’m sticking with the grrrls from now on.
I’ve never met the Bloggess, but she owes me money. I’ll introduce you.
Where’s the link to Emily’s awesome unaffected style?
So I got stood up for BHJ? I’ll try not to be hurt. After all, he’s way hotter in hooker heels than I’ll ever be.
If it’s any consolation, I didn’t read either of your blogs until today.
Wow, I actually started feeling competitive there towards the end, wondering if my husband’s penis was bigger than your wife’s breasts.
This line of thinking/reasoning can go nowhere good. Gonna go think about puppies and flowers now.
I will take the picture of you and the Bloggess at BlogHer. Then I’LL SELL IT TO THE TABLOIDS FOR MILLIONS and get filthy ass rich. Cool.
Ah Neil, you’re too much! But you got to meet BHJ and his hot, hot wife; from the sound of it you’re not doing too badly in the wife department either.
In Vegas. You rawk.