Jeans Aren’t Making You Lucky

“No, I’m not coming in there with you!”

After spending over an hour at the same store, which was now completely closed just for us thanks to Jason’s notorious shopping addiction and his Centurion card, I was starting to get a little agitated. I may be a gay man, but one thing I’m not is an avid shopper. So when Jason asked…actually, told…me to come shopping with him, I only relented because I wanted to get away from those ridiculous paparazzi. Oh, and the fact that he’s borderline adorable helps too.

“Aww, why not? I need more jeans and I need your advice on how they look on me.”

This is a joke, right? He’s just testing me. He has to be. Because God wouldn’t toy with me in this way.

“Hey, you out there? I can’t see my ass and wanna know if this looks good on me.” Jason pulled open the curtains to the dressing room.

Take the jeans off and I’ll let you know for sure. What is wrong with me?

“They look fine, Jason. Seriously, you should have brought a girl or something…” The fact that Jason was asking me how his fantastic butt looks in three-hundred dollar jeans was just torture for me. Supreme and utter torture.

“Now you know if I brought a girl, I wouldn’t be trying on clothes,” Jason said with a stupid smirk on his face. And now I’m back to thinking he’s an ass.

I rolled my eyes and made my way out to the sales floor, where annoying girls giggling like schoolchildren ran over to me as though they were in a track-and-field competition. They were cute and disgusting, and tried to get as far up my ass as possible. “Can we help you, Brian? Please let me help you!” “OMG, I love you so much; I’ve seen you in all the Game movies!” “You’re so hot; can I take a picture of you with my phone?”

After being surrounded by a bunch of horny twentysomethings for twenty minutes, Jason came out of the dressing room wondering where I was and getting annoyed at the fact that neither I nor all of the attendants were paying attention to him, he finally came out of the dressing room with what he wore into the store. One exception though: Shirt unbuttoned, revealing all six of his packs, and flexing Mister-Universe-style. More grandstanding from the world’s foremost eligible bachelor.

“I think I’m done; if I can get some help in gathering up all this stuff that I want…” The vast majority of the attendants ran over to help Jason get his act together and to get all of his clothes back on. Or maybe off, as the case may be. Nope, on…it didn’t take him that long to come back out fully dressed and sex doesn’t happen that fast.

After taking care of us (and after Jason managed to ring up a $3000 bill) a valet ran to get Jason’s car, and within minutes we were back on the road, heading back toward my house as Jason called one of his assistants to grab my car from the valet at Spago. I forgot I left it there. Regardless, as the two of us were driving back to my house in Venice, Jason had at least a good half an hour to grill me some more about my decision to find new representation.

“So tell me again why you want new people?” Jason said as he made the left onto Wilshire, almost getting into a car accident doing so.

“Watch the road, idiot! And I told you; I want to do more serious stuff.”

“Like what, exactly? I mean, I don’t mean to get all up in your grille or anything…” Jason likes to think that he has some urban edge to him, represented by the fact that he wears Timberland boots every so often. It wouldn’t be so bad if he lived in the suburbs, but here in LA there are actually gangs that make the same signs he does when he takes a picture of himself and posts it to Facebook or MySpace. I just hope he doesn’t get beaten.

“Something that requires more acting than me throwing a basketball around…”

“Oh, don’t be so judgmental. Seriously, you have a great life, you’re in some good movies, you’ve gotten great press. All you need is a girlfriend and you’ll have the perfect life, dude.”

No, I won’t. I won’t have the perfect life. And...what good movies have I been in, exactly?

“Maybe I’ll just quit and go back to school…get my Bachelor’s Degree in something.”

Jason slammed on his brakes, causing a major traffic jam, before he pulled onto the 405. Bad idea, but I wasn’t driving. “You’re gonna quit? Are you crazy? Seriously, you’re starting to scare me.”

“Why am I scaring you?”

“You just are, bro.” Now he’s a surfer. He’s hot as hell, but such a dumbass. Seriously, how do girls put up with him? “Let’s head back to your house and play Madden…I’m sure if you think about it you’re in a good place.”

Maybe Madden would get my mind off of things. Something else would too, but I doubt he would go for it. Sigh.

Wow, I can't believe I've gotten feedback already! It took eight more chapters for this to happen in my sci-fi story...which I feel like I should be writing since I haven't touched it in forever. But right now I feel more compelled to write this, so this is what I'm gonna do. So there. *sticks tongue out*

I'm real mature. Tee hee.

Working over the weekend sucks, but I'm managing to squeeze in writing time into the mix. Yay for accomplishments.

Meanwhile, at work today, one of my managers gave me a Glee foam finger that she got at the Pearl Jam concert. It was some promotion that they were doing, and even though I don't know what the two have in common, I instantly love her more. Because I'm a gleek. Addicted; it's a sickness.

Anyway, before I babel on even more, I'm gonna go to bed. Night!

~ Andrew