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What about RW?

So Britt and I had dinner with RW last night. If you don’t read his blog, you should. He’s one of the best kept secrets on the net.

Most people would go into a long, rambling discussion of dinner, and what everyone was like, what we talked about, what made me take my pants off at the table, why Britt was under the table for so long, how the conversation turned to a discussion of which animal was the worst to have sex with, and why RW’s new nickname is The Swinger, but I’m not most people.

What I will talk about, however, is the fact that this morning, Britt and I both woke up naked in a bathtub filled with ice. Our sides ached, and there was a neatly written note stapled to my forehead. It read:

Dearest Sir Avitable and Madame Britt,

It was my pleasure to make your delightful acquaintance last night at dinner. I was pleasantly surprised to find that both of you were friendly, wonderful people. I must confess, however, that my tales of traveling nationwide selling pens on chains to banks was a situation in which I was not entirely forthright. I do, in fact, sell kidneys on the black market. For that reason, my dear companions, I create hundreds of blogs that I populate with witty insight and canny observations so that I can ensnare unsuspecting denizens of the blogosphere into meeting with me. And then after relieving them of one of these unnecessary organs, I disappear into the night, never to be seen again. And for that reason, my fellow online contributors, you should pick yourselves up and proceed posthaste to the nearest medical facility to ensure your continued long life and happiness.

Respectfully yours, RW

Oh, and he left us this picture:

Avitable, RW and Britt at dinner

31 thoughts on “What about RW?”

  1. Mistress Yoda, I’d rather have a frontal lobotomy than a bottle in front of me.

    Danalyn, they are awesome, aren’t they?

    Britt, if you’d use that damn keyboard, it would be fine.

    TMP, oh, there’s no pain. Only regret.

    Dawn, yeah, me too.

    Poppy, just one. He’s a gentleman.

    Bluepaintred, did he meet RW too?

    Christie, thanks.

  2. Dave, I remember reading that and laughing my ass off. I made sure that no nuclear fusion discussion occurred. We kept it to safe topics like politics and religion.

    Tug, yeah, because, honestly, that’s how we ended up the morning before, too, but for very different reasons.

    Dragon, got to? I’ve been trying to get her to put her clothes on for days!

  3. You and Britt always end up in the most unusual places. At least you both woke up with someone or something you knew… this time anyway.

    And, it occurs to me, you have this lovely new blog, the ability for private posts, and now I have to wonder, what in God’s name would YOU need to make private? And, if you DID… I don’t think any of us would have the balls to read or heaven forbid, watch the damn thing anyway.

  4. Joefish, he’s a shady bastard, but such a nice guy!

    TMP, I regret nothing. Except losing my kidney.

    Mistress Yoda, vodka?

    Amy, I don’t think I’d ever do a private post. Unless I had some deep dark secret that had been so burdensome that I just had to share.

    Mist, I think that’s wise.

    Poppy, I only look towards the future!

    NYCWD, it’s my amazing recall.

    Mr. Fabulous, hmm. I knew I felt like I was missing something else.

  5. Be thankful it was only your liver. I had the same thing happen to me, except it was my virginity that was taken.

    And it was a priest, not RW.

    (no, no… that’s wrong. I really shouldn’t write that…)

  6. Mistress Yoda, me either. That’s why I have 16 kids with different women.

    TMP, I’ll just steal someone else’s.

    Poppy, that’s okay.

    Kal, very nice. RW took my virginity, too, I think. My ass was sore. Unless Britt did . . .

    WeaponM, she’s a nudist.

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