Everyone Loves a Dirty Sanchez…
Brian handed me his rent check a few days ago and said, “I went easy on you this month.”
I looked at the check and under “For,” he wrote, “September Rent and Dirty Sanchez.”
I laughed. “How is that going easy on me?”
Brian says, “They won’t know what it is. And if they do, they’re a dirty mutherfucker.”
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So usually I don’t care because I deposit his checks at the ATM. But I had to pay back my cash reserve this month so I had to see the teller. When I walked in, it was like deja vu (see Wed June 23rd Post ). So there’s the cute college boy teller that I always flirt with, and he’s smiling and shyly waving, and I’ve got a check in my hand that says it’s for a Dirty Sanchez. And I have a pretty good idea this kid will know what it is, and he looks like a good kid, too, a mama’s boy (my favorite type) who’s gonna think I’m a big, fat whore. So I’m sweating it out, contemplating waving the person behind me through if his window gets free first, but I don’t want him to think that I’m purposely avoiding him, and I’m so pissed at Brian and I wish I had anticipated this and deposited the check at the ATM and just come back some other time to pay back my reserve. Dammit. I was lucky enough to get the other teller while I chatted over the partition with college boy. But honestly, Brian. You’re killing me.
Oh I forgot about one detail. I was depositing a check for a Dirty Sanchez and $800 in cash (from Vegas). That’s why I thought this all looked really, really, really bad.