HORNYMEGANFOX

You know that feeling! That “I’m going to pass out or piss my pants right where I stand,” feeling? Yeah, well I didn’t have THAT. I had that “You’re a fourteen years old boy and your grandma just caught you beating off in her bathroom and makes you clean it all up as she watched,” feeling. Utter Stupidity, I felt. I did AT LEAST seven double takes in four seconds to reassure myself that I was standing in front of Megan Fox.

“Uhhhh, Uhhhh, I, I, I, I guess you could kinda say somethin’ like that,” I said back to her.

This wasn’t really happening right? I wanted to pinch or bite myself, wake up next to Nikki Hilton, vomit on my clothes and start this shit all over again. My breath was the worse it had been since I lost a dare in fourth grade and had to eat my friends, cousins’ dog shit. Terrible story for another day! My hands were as palmy, sweaty, shaking and I was STILL INEBRIATED.

“Yeah, I remember you for sure. Me and my friends watched you dance for like 10 minutes straight. I wanted to come dance with you, but I was with my guyfriend and I didn’t want it to be all awkward and shit. I’m Megan by the way.” (as if every fuckin’ human, alien and asshole didn’t know her.)

CONVERSATION WITH B.YONEST “TO” B.YONEST starts NOW!!!!

“Seriously? MEGAN FOX watched you dance, B. This is the most amazing experience you’ve ever had B. Please don’t fuck THIS one up. Your luck with girls is TERRIBLE and… Just pleaase don’t fuck this one up. You won’t be able to explain to your friends…. Wait did she call Brian Boston Bean her “guy” friend? Why didn’t she say boyfriend?”

“Because he’s not my boyfriend,” Megan said as she brought me back from my personal (but obviously broadcasted) dreamworld. I had just said ALL OF THAT OUT LOUD. She heard ever word. The “don’t fuck this up” The “Brian Boston Bean.” She heard it ALL. What an ass I’ve made of myself to the City of Santa Monica, today. Trippin’ in the street, pickin’ up weed, stealin MY backpack BACK from the bums and calling Megan Foxs’ “guy friend” Brian Boston Bean to her face. ASS HOLE!

“What’s your name,” Megan asked as she reached out to shake my hand. Normally, I kiss the hand of every girl I meet for the first time. Just a sign of respect and appreciation for women, period. There was no way in the WORLD I could shake, touch or kiss her hand right now. What the kcuf was I to do? My first “interaction” with Megan Fox and this is what I look, smell and feel like?

“I’m B,” I gasped as I shook her hand with extreme reservation. I wanted to kiss it more badly than any hand I’d seen in my LIFE, but I froze up. I was scared to leave the scent of another womans’ vagina on her, truthfully.

“B, huh? Does that stand for anything in particular B,” Megan asked. I was really exchanging in normal conversation with kcufin Megan Fox. I forgot how badly I wanted to bang her. I completely lost sight of the fact I was scrambling like chicken with his head cut off to find her just 30 minutes ago. I was chillin’ at the gym, talkin to Megan Fox.

“Yeah it stands for B.YONEST. Real name is Brian (I felt Megan Fox deserved my real name), but everyone calls me B. You can call me B DOT if you want,” I told her with a confident grin.”

We exchanged small talk (I wont bore you with all the details like me gazing at her sweaty cleavage every once in a while or me beginning to envision BEING the sweat running down her cleavage, etc), laughed a bit more about me vomiting in the parking lot. She asked if I was new to Los Angeles and what I was doing in the “City of Angels.” Truthfully it was pretty boring conversation besides the fact her nipples were rock solid, my penis to follow and I could feel my stomach churning with excitement and slowly, but surely more vomit was creeping up my throat.

CONVERSATION WITH B.YONEST “TO B.YONEST PART II

“You cannot, will not and refuse to puke in front of Megan Fox. Get it together B. Your knees are gettin weaker! B, get a drink of water from the fountain. B, don’t do this B. B! B! B!”

The next thing I remember, I was lying on my back, there were blurry faces of different colors surrounding me and I didn’t have my glasses on anymore. It was warm and the room was spinning. I could feel something on my forehead, but I felt too weak and embarrassed to reach for it or give a shit.

“You alright man,” Jason asked me as he began to lift me up. I passed out cold, PEOPLE. Fainted right in front of Megan Fox. We shared great convo, sweat together and I passed out!

“Yeah I’m good,” I responded to Jason as if I hadn’t just fainted in front a gym packed full of people. Not quite the statement I was looking to make! I slowly walked over to the water fountain, held onto the sides of the fountain dispenser (to give myself something to balance on) and sipped some water. After a few HUMONGOUS, thirst quenching gulps I looked into the mirror above the water fountain and noticed a blurry, yellow “Post-It” stuck on my forehead. I slowly reached up and grabbed the note with sincere confusion.

“Sorry I had to bail, babe. Enjoyed the laughs. Call me, B. Heart, Megan!” the note read. A ten-digit number surrounded the perimeter of the note. I was a note, NO THE NOTE, from Megan Fox. I put the note in my left pocket, walked downstairs into the locker room and took a shower.

“It’s only Noon and I’ve had the best day of my life,” I said to myself as I washed my nut sac. I may have dropped trees in the street, forgot my I-Pod, puked on my clothes, stole my backpack from homeless honky’s, chased Brian Boston Bean through the Promenade (like an asshole), brushed my teeth in Caucasian pubic hair and passed out in front of Megan Fox. BUT, I got her digits. Don’t remember when or how, but I got ‘em.

I didn’t bang Megan Fox that day either obviously, but tune in TOMORROW.. We’re gettin closer!