SAVE YOUR LOOTCAKES

A few weeks ago a friend approached me and asked if I could "do her a favor." As soon as someone asks me this I'm real quick to change the subject as to avoid any sort of responsibility or semblance of a mature friendship. However, I was taken off guard and said, "sure, uhhhhh, yeah, I guess I can do you a favor." The favor she asked for was a little more reasonable than I thought, but absurd nonetheless.

Her: "Can you and a few of your friends auction…
Me: "No chance"
Her: "…yourself off for a charity auction?"

I later told her I'd think about it, and what I did was truly think why a random girl would spend a dime to hang out with a bro like me. I don't know what your sales pitch is, but Here's mine:

Hey ladies, I'm about 5'9," graduated from law school but I deliver mail for a living and live with my mother and her guido boyfriend. I'm starting to get a little hair creeping up on my shoulders. You can often find me blacked-out drunk, arguing with bartenders because they think my 50 cent tip was "rude." I might have lied to a bunch of your friends, and possibly slept with one of em. That shirt I gave her to wear home is my least favorite and well-worth not having to ever speak to her again. I can't afford to take you out to dinner, pay for drinks, and/or have a normal conversation without an ungodly amount of alcohol. My t-shirts are extra-small and those holes are legitimately chew holes from mice. My hands shake uncontrollably. I have a small case of little man's disease which often leads to perpetual black eyes…for me. I have a decent criminal record, and am no longer allowed in an entire county in Southern Mississippi….(can't say I'm really mad at that). Last week a cab dropped me off in the pouring rain on 145th Street and Broadway after I couldn't afford to pay him the $30 dollar fare: I'm still not sure what's more embarrassing, walking home in the pouring rain after getting chastised by a cab driver named Sammy Boutros, or having to ask my mom to write out a $30 check and mail it to my man Boutros. Did I mention I live with my moms? I genuinely hate when people walk in front of me, behind me, or next to me. Besides all that, I'll treat you right…lets start the bidding!!!