Princess MoMo

Click here to read the Mr. T Intro

Last time we left off, Mr. T had suggested an activity involving horses (get your mind out of the gutter, you sickos). I vetoed anything horse-related. The next day, he texted me with a substitute idea.

The Text Exchange

Mr. T: It’s a lovely day to get an early start with drinks in hoboken on the roof then dinner (cuban or italian?) followed by drinks and blunts and taking turns freestylin.
Mr. T: I think you should come early like 5pm and we can practice our rhymes before dinner.
Princess MoMo: You had me at “freestylin,” one of my favorite pastimes. 6 pm.
Mr. T: Word.
Mr T: Do I get to choose my nom for your plume? Mr Handsome, Mr Smart, Mr Hung, or Mr Charming. All seem viable. Perhaps Mr Modest?
Princess MoMo: No. Those all suck. I can be there at 530. Kindly provide me with an address.
Mr. T: Mr 5 oclock shadow? Mr. Pants?
Princess MoMo: Address.

I arrived in Hoboken at the time I said I would, but then I had to circle around in search of a parking spot. Note, this was after having the MoMo-mobile savagely attacked just a few days prior by some Hoboken hooligans.

I parked a bunch of blocks away and then began my epic journey on foot to Mr. T’s apartment. The quest involved walking five blocks (luckily, I was wearing the flats I purchased the week before), entering three doors, climbing FIVE flights of stairs (I felt like I was going up to the Statue of Liberty’s crown or to save Princess Rapunzel but she wasn’t letting down her hair), and then a final door guarded by a naked, armless baby.

Finally, after my exhausting trek to his dwelling, I sat on the couch. Mind you, I was still recovering from the previous night (this is important for a later point in the story).  On his table, there was a package of six beer pong balls. He said he felt compelled to buy them for some reason that day. I informed him that the reason was because we were about to play some beer pong. Unfortunately, I had not come equipped with my traveling beer pong table or my beer pong skillz. (Yes, I really have traveling table, pictured below, and it’s usually in the trunk of the MoMo-mobile.) He said, “Before dinner?” Of course. We played two games of pong. Sadly, I lost both. But, he’s 6’5″ and his table was short, meaning I was disadvantaged.

We went off to dinner in an Italian joint. We walked in around 8:30 p.m. and were told there was a 30 minutes wait. I immediately said, “No, we’re not waiting. Let’s go somewhere else.” He said that anywhere else worth eating would also have a wait. I hate waiting out, but I had no choice. He escorted me to the restaurant bar. I ordered a Goose, orange and cranberry juice and he ordered a beer of some sort. Not a minute after the drinks arrived, he moved his beer glass the wrong way and it shattered. He claimed he didn’t realize the bar was tiered. (Note, if you’re thinking this was embarrassing, it wasn’t. I couldn’t care less as long as I’m not the one causing the commotion.)

Finally, 30 minutes had elapsed and we were seated for dinner. The waitress then approached us and said in an unpleasant tone, “Did somebody seat you?” (She was insinuating that we may have just seated ourselves like classless heathens.)  This was enough to set me off, but I suppressed my urge to bitch slap her. Her next few interactions with us were equally unpleasant. I had another drink. Then, I was feeling good. I asked the waitress to meet me at the back of the restaurant. She did. We had a heart-to-heart. I told her that I thought she was being a complete bitch to us initially. She explained that she was annoyed because there was a baby crawling around the restaurant floor while she was trying to carry out hot plate. I felt her pain. We bonded. We hugged. She said my next drink was on the house. When I went back to the table, Mr. T didn’t understand what had just happened. We explained to him that we made up and we hugged in front of him as a sign of our peace treaty.

After dinner, we stopped to get more beer for more beer pong, per my request. My walking was likely very unskilled at that point because I had boozed a bit too much. We started game 3 of beer pong. He was pretty much kicking my ass. My vision started failing and the Sandman was shouting my name. I told him I’d take the forfeit. I went over to his couch, flung myself on it and passed the eff out. He picked up passed out MoMo and took her to his bed. As he placed me in his bed, I awoke and said, “I do not like to be touched.” With that, he left the room and I resumed my slumber. Now, you may be wondering what time this was. Wonder no more; it was 10:45 p.m. (As I noted earlier, I hadn’t fully recovered from the previous night’s festivities.)

Finally, I had completed my beauty rest. I opened by eyes and took in my surroundings in an effort to recall where I was. During my visual assessment, I noted that Mr. T was no where in sight. I exited his sleeping chambers to investigate his whereabouts. With ease, I found him. He was asleep on the couch. I woke him up and asked him what time it was. He said, 3:45 a.m. Of course it was. Why would I sleep normal people hours? He then asked me if I had seen the texts he sent me. I said no. I quickly located my device connected to the charger, which naturally was no more than 2 feet from where I was sleeping.

His texts read:

Text 1: As of 10:45 you are passed out in my bed having explicitly stated “I don’t like to be touched.” So I’m around the corner having a beer with my brother. If you wake I can be back in one minute. I had fun, but I’m not at all tired. And I like to touch, so….. :-)
Text 2: Smoking a blunt on my balcony. Natural leaf wrapper. Accompanied by an IPA of the highest order. Sublime.
Text 3: You are in between my sheets. This is not what Id imagined.
Text 4: Incidentally the moment you fell asleep the Universal Forfeiture Unionization took effect on your publishing rights.
[Editor’s Note: I don’t know wtf he was talking about with this one. Maybe he was high?]
Text 5: You are missing a crazy argument in the condo next door. Meaning of life.
silver lining: I have completely lost my sexual appetite listening to how sad my neighbor is. Might go back to the bar.you seem fully asleep. Why the fuck did you insist on 10 cup beer pong. What exactly did I ever do to you that you dint want to stay awake? {mother fucking speilburg/spellcheck is making this take speeder/forever.
Text 6: If you had stayed Awake I’d probably have been in your pants by now. Win\win.
Text 7: I was ready to cross party lines. Left, right and center. And I was ready to put in the time necessary to make your approval rating soar. (watching cnn and trying to write sexy is impossible)
Text 8: (Universal F orfeiture Unionization = “UFU or U Fucked Up’ as the laymans version)
[Editor’s Note: He must have predicted that I would have attributed the “Universal Forfeiture Unionization” text to Mary Jane.]

Anyway, at 3:45 a.m., we conversed about all sorts of topics ranging from politics to, well, politics. Mostly, we talked about politics. It seemed to me that we were on opposite sides of the spectrum. While liberals usually irritate me, I respected his point of view because he was able to intelligently support his perspective. Several hours later, I left.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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