Under Where?

This sounds like a lame Benny Hill skit, but I was hanging out fairly late one night with some buddies -- drinking, smoking -- when a girl I liked called. I can never tell if a girl just thinks I'm funny or if there's more involved, so I figured I'd try a blatant pick-up line right away and play it off like a joke if she was horrified. I asked: "How 'bout I come over with wine and a joint and we hook up?" She said "Sure," but I couldn't tell if she was kidding.

Why not push it, right?

I cruised over to her place, went to the window I believed to be hers, stripped down to nothing but a comical pair of boxer shorts -- you know, that pair with the big smiley face. Wine in one hand and joint in the other, I rapped on the window a few times.

This giant football-player type pulled back his curtain and was so shocked he spat out his dip.

I had managed to knock on the wrong window -- well, right window, wrong house. The football player called me a pervert and told me I was dead. I ran home, clothes and wine in hand, looking behind me all the way. I told the girl about it later. She said she'd talk to the guy, and that she thought I was funny.

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