Big ol' cuss word...

You know I can't say the Daddy of All Cuss Words that Taketh Thy Lord's Name In Vain.

But this event in my punk ass existence would definitely would warrant such a word (dare I utter it, and right before I get zapped with lightening from above).

I've got his phone number.

Can I say it now? Huh? Thats right, his muthafuckin phone number. And I didn't even ask for it! I, in all my amazonian restraint managed not to ask for it. And he gave it to me anyways since his vacation approacheth quite rapidly, like this evening he will be out of range for our general communication.

Holy Shit. This must be how all my ex-es felt when I finally handed over my number to them.

Poor men. I shall never hold out on the digits again. Because then they have to decide when to call, etc. At least I kinda know this dude a little. I'm still nervous though. Sum'bitch. This sucks. I don't like being on the receiving end. I miss my womanly powers of handing out the number first.

Oh well, lemme go work.