Water Slides and Drunken College Boys

"You need a beer!"

So sayeth the incredibly cute young dude as he held my car back, Superman-style, in the middle of the street yesterday.

I love living in a college town!

I know a lot of my readers are in a college-setting, either as an instructor or as a student. As such, you can relate to my inner turmoil, the devil-on-my-shoulder wishing to relive my ancient college days, and the angel-on-my-shoulder trying to be a good grownup wife and mother.

Urgh...to choose.

It always amazes me when local folks write the newspaper with inane editorial letters bashing the student population. "They're so loud!" "They just walk up and down the sidewalk in front of my house!" "That music...OH! So pre-verted!"

Okay, for all you complainers who insisted on buying residences in the college slum housing neighborhoods...MOVE, DAMMIT! You can not and will not EVEREVEREVER change the college student population, so don't even try. There are local ordinances that keep the peace as much as possible...if they're too loud, call the cops. If they pee on your bushes, call the cops. If they wear next to nuthin' and walk in front of your house licking ice cream cones in a suggestive manner, APPLAUD THEM! Y'know how many folks would pay good money to see that? You're just lucky, okay? Pull a couch onto your front porch and watch them! Offer to buy them ice cream! Get it? Take advantage of the good stuff, bubba.

My girl-child's preschool is in an old elementary school, which sits right in the middle of college rental housing. The neighborhood is half college kids, half residences, mostly families with small children, so the peace is kept pretty well.

But.

One of the side streets a block away from the preschool has this party house.

In an earlier blog I mentioned a young cute skateboarder who smiles at me every time I drive down the street in front of his house. He lives at Party House. He's probably seen my car a hundred times. He waves. I wave. 'S nice, y'know?

Party House recently installed an inflatable water slide on the front lawn. Not just a slip-n-slide, y'all, I'm talkin' one of those 12-foot high inflatable things that you see at water parks and company picnics.

It's!
Awesome!

Every afternoon when I go to pick up girl-child, the residents of Party House, all guys, are out front slipping down the slide, sprawled in lawn chairs, cans of icy-cold beer in tubs scattered around, and half a dozen comely young girls in various states of undress teasing them with nipply spandex. Loud music blares out, all good college stuff that I hum along to. The guys play football in the street and move slowly to the side when a car approaches. They wave. They smile. It's summer, and school's been blown to pieces.

Yesterday I turned the corner to drive past Party House to pick up girl-child. Three cuties were in the street, the football bouncing like boobies amongst them. My cute skateboarder guy was there. He was wearing a bathing suit and what I can only describe as a 1940's French biker's hat. Damn good lookin', that.

As my car approached them, they did something totally unexpected. One studly guy lay down in the middle of the road, in my lane. My skateboarder guy stood in the road, daring me to drive forward. The third guy walked up the curb and approached my car window.

Yes. They were drunk.

And fucking adorable.

The skateboarder guy had his hand outstretched toward my window. He smiled at me. Big ol' breaking grin. The guy lying in the street stood up and stood in front of my car, also smiling.

Skateboard guy kept on a-grinnin'. My windows were rolled down, it was frickin' hot, so I could hear everything they said.

Skateboard guy: You need to go down our water slide!
Mona: I can't, man, not today.
Skateboard guy: It's really hot out here! Go down the water slide and we'll get you a beer!
Mona: Uh....

At this point the 'Younger Mona' contemplated parking her car around the corner, stripping down to her undies, climbing up the water slide with her ass swaying like a juicy peach, sliding down head-first so her breasteses got wet and her nipples hard, walking over to Skateboard Guy, pushing her moist body against his, and whispering in his ear, "Now, where's that beer?"

Yeah, baby.

But that's not me anymore. I am faithful to my beloved Sergei. I am also old enough to be these guys...uh...er...older sister. And I'm a mom, and my kid is just 2 doors down, and I had to go to a Parents Meeting, and the girl-child still needed to be fed.

'Older Mona' smiled sweetly at Skateboard Guy.

Mona: No thanks, dude.
Skateboard Guy: I don't think I can let you pass, then!
Third guy at my open window: Hey! I think you have a gas leak! 'Cause I can smell fumes!
Mona: I think that's YOUR fumes, pal!
Skateboard Guy: Maybe another time?
Mona: We'll see, man. Thanks for the offer, though.
Skateboard Guy: I'll see ya!
Mona: (waves, smiles, turns the corner into preschool parking lot, and where did that big shit-eating grin come from?)

Now it may be these guys were stopping everyone who passed. Or just females. Or they may have recognized my car from all those times they hit the curb to let me pass.

I don't really care.

The point is, it made me feel really good. Really young. I wasn't even sportin' any cleavage they could see, and I was probably looking pretty cashed-out. But I enjoyed the attention, the chatting-up, the inventiveness. I felt damn sexy.

Now the question is this: when I pick up girl-child tonight, should I take the same street? Do I dare risk another hardbody, beer-fueled, wet-and-wild encounter? Ooh, 'Younger Mona' and 'Older Mona' are gonna duel with light-sabers today on that one!