A few years back I moved into my good friend Jake’s new house. There were just we two strapping young bachelors living there; not a lot of cleaning got done. Our main goal seemed to be meeting new girls; we put a lot of energy into that. Well, one a beautiful sunny day I returned home in the afternoon. I just happened to be in the driveway as two lovely young ladies drove by in a jeep. I was feeling particularly polite that day so I gave them a little wave; a little “how you ladies doing.” Jake’s house is on the corner of a cul-de-sac, which the girls turned into (his driveway is off the main road). So, I go inside the house and take a quick peek out the window to see where these lovely young ladies happened to be going and they had stopped right in front of the house and had got out of the car. Well, now I obviously move away from the window assuming that they are on their way up to the house. Nothing happens. They disappeared; no idea where they went. But, their car was still there. What the hell was going on? So, I eventually went out to my car and what did I find? On the windshield of my car was a little note (obviously from the hotties). They were advertising a maid service. SCORE! 
(Not Actual Blondes)
I present this opportunity to Jake. “We can have hot girls over and they will also clean the house. WIN WIN (for us at least)!” It is agreed that I should call them in two days. So the two days go by and I give them a call and make an appointment. The call was not necessarily smooth, this never happens to me. It was not my fault though; the beautiful blonde that I happened to be talking to had a fairly strong, Latin accent. So, being the small talk professional that I am, I ask where they are from. The conversation went something like this:
Me: So, if you don’t mind me asking, where are you two from?
Hottie Blonde Maid: Guatemala.
Me: Beautiful, blonde and from Guatemala? Must be my lucky day, how about you two come over tomorrow and we can talk about the cleaning.
Hottie Blonde Maid: Ok.
Slam! Homerun! Now all I have to do is casually jog around the bases.
6pm the next day arrives with a knock at the front door. (We also happened to be preparing for a photo shoot that night so Jake was off with the model and the make-up gal prepping. So, there are about to be four hotties in the house at one time with two jack asses. Those are good numbers). I answer the door, and much to my dismay, there are no hottie-blonde-maids to be seen. What the flying hell is going on! There are two, not cute Guatemalans. One of which is about to go into labor. What the Hell! Well, I invite them in and show them the place. As we talk with them I learn that they speak very little English. Jake comes down to meet the maids and stops dead in his tracks, like he had just seen a ghost. He immediately returned to prepping the model, good move on his part. I struggled with the maids for a few more moments, got a quote for cleaning and sent them on their way.
What the hell happened!? Where were the hotties?! Where did they go!? Did the Guatemalans send the hotties to put the notes on the cars? It doesn’t seem very likely. I still have no idea what happened to the hotties.
(Not Actual Blondes)I present this opportunity to Jake. “We can have hot girls over and they will also clean the house. WIN WIN (for us at least)!” It is agreed that I should call them in two days. So the two days go by and I give them a call and make an appointment. The call was not necessarily smooth, this never happens to me. It was not my fault though; the beautiful blonde that I happened to be talking to had a fairly strong, Latin accent. So, being the small talk professional that I am, I ask where they are from. The conversation went something like this:
Me: So, if you don’t mind me asking, where are you two from?
Hottie Blonde Maid: Guatemala.
Me: Beautiful, blonde and from Guatemala? Must be my lucky day, how about you two come over tomorrow and we can talk about the cleaning.
Hottie Blonde Maid: Ok.
Slam! Homerun! Now all I have to do is casually jog around the bases.
6pm the next day arrives with a knock at the front door. (We also happened to be preparing for a photo shoot that night so Jake was off with the model and the make-up gal prepping. So, there are about to be four hotties in the house at one time with two jack asses. Those are good numbers). I answer the door, and much to my dismay, there are no hottie-blonde-maids to be seen. What the flying hell is going on! There are two, not cute Guatemalans. One of which is about to go into labor. What the Hell! Well, I invite them in and show them the place. As we talk with them I learn that they speak very little English. Jake comes down to meet the maids and stops dead in his tracks, like he had just seen a ghost. He immediately returned to prepping the model, good move on his part. I struggled with the maids for a few more moments, got a quote for cleaning and sent them on their way.
What the hell happened!? Where were the hotties?! Where did they go!? Did the Guatemalans send the hotties to put the notes on the cars? It doesn’t seem very likely. I still have no idea what happened to the hotties.
2 comments:
Did you actually refer to yourself as "strapping?" That's scary.
Also, it hurts my feelings that you don't think I'm a blonde hottie, but a pregnant Guatamalan maid. I was just trying to help you out by cleaning your house, you pig.
Oh man, twas a good day that one!
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