… a girl had a party at her off-campus apartment. She invited people far and wide from across the
campus, and they promised to come, and bring friends even! And so the girl, we'll call her Mo, began preparations for the party.
As it was Christmas, Mo hung Christmas lights around her apartment, covered an entire wall with wrapping paper for people to decorate, and hung mistletoe in strategic places.
Let me repeat that… Mo hung mistletoe in strategic places. And if you, dear reader, don't know what mistletoe is and all the mischief it can create, then please stop reading and pick up the nearest copy of a Christmas-edition Harlequin romance.
The night of the party, everyone arrived. Friends, including Mo's friends Chardonnay, Riesling, and Shiraz, her friend from Michigan State, Honey Wagon (who was wearing press-on fingernails), and friends of friends were in attendance, and a rousing party ensued. Beer, wine and other beverages containing alcohol were consumed in great quantity and at a great rate. Most everyone in attendance was feeling jolly and there was laughter, singing, and dancing all through the apartment. At one point, our heroine main character Mo had gone into her bedroom to have a small disagreement with Shiraz, Chardonnay, and Riesling (no mistletoe was hanging there, just point of information) and was returning to the living area where the majority of the party goers were when…
… out of no where…
… a man came out of the bathroom. He was tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, and he looked up, spied the mistletoe and claimed the traditional forfeit of a kiss from our completely unsuspecting Mo.
Now the layout of Mo's apartment was such that the bedrooms were in the back, the living space was in the front, and the bathroom was in the dead center of the hallway separating the two. So when the man came out of the bathroom and immediately began besmirching Mo's honor by kissing her, it ended up that the two "lovers", entwined in their kiss, blocked the bedrooms off from the living space, the living space was blocked off from the bedrooms, and no one could get in the bathroom.
And that's when Honey Wagon, Mo's sorta kinda good friend, began timing the kiss. (sorta kinda only because of her timing the kiss, just for the record)
That lasted for nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds.
Now, being older, things have grown a bit hazy in Mo's mind but yes, eventually Mo and the Rake ended up in her bedroom. Alone. And certain things may have happened (however, unlike a certain former president, Mo can honestly say she did not have sex with that man). And the rake, along with his friends (one of whom had been thoroughly enamored with Honey Wagon), left that same evening.
The next morning, Honey Wagon and Mo awoke, and Honey Wagon, in quite the hurry to get back to MSU for work, left. Sans fingernails. Which Mo later found strewn about her living room. Until the day she moved out, actually.
In the meantime, Mo's friend Alma (a friend who was a student at Alma), came by to borrow Mo's student i.d. in order to use the library at Mo's institute of higher learning (not that it actually belonged to Mo, she just went to school there). Their morning greeting went something like this:
A rather groggy and hungover Mo: "Hey. What's up? Want some coffee?"
Alma: "No, I just ran into Honey Wagon at 7-11 and got… Holy shit! What the hell happened to your neck?"
(Mo runs into the bathroom and begins examining the did-someone-just-try-and-strangle-you-or-was-he-just-happy-to-see-you bruises on her neck)
Mo: "Um, I kinda met someone last night."
Alma: "No shit. Was his name Hoover?"
Mo: "I'm never drinking again."
Alma retrieved Mo's student i.d. and left to research her paper.
Later that same afternoon, Mo went to lunch with her closest friends who of course had been in attendance at the party. Their lunch conversation went something like this (for purposes of privacy, Mo's friends names have been changed):
Mo: "I'm never drinking again."
Chardonnay: "So, Mo, what's up with the turtleneck?"
Shiraz: "Uh huh. That wouldn't have anything to do with that Sasquatch you were making out with last night, would it?"
Riesling: "You had a lot to drink last night, Mo."
Mo: "Yeah, I know. But what's up with this Sasquatch thing?"
Shiraz: "Like Riesling said. You had a lot to drink last night, Mo. Not to worry, though. I'm sure he'll be at Bourbon's party tonight."
Mo: "I'll drive. I'm not drinking tonight."
Even later that night….
Mo: "I'm never drinking again. This hangover sucks."
Chardonnay: "Wait until you see who just got here."
Reisling: "Oh look who just got here."
Shiraz: "Oh, look. Sasquatch is here."
Mo then turns around to find a tall, dark, unattractive HAIRY guy brooding in the corner staring at her.
Mo: "What the hell kind of friends are you? You let me make out with that?"
Riesling: "Well, it's not like we could stop you. In your defense, he did kind of come out of no where."
Shiraz: "He came out of the bathroom, not no where. But still, she's the one who let the kiss continue for more than, what was it, ten minutes?"
Mo: "Whatever. Give me that bottle of Boone's Farm and let's just forget this ever happened."
(Riesling, good friend that she is, handed over the bottle and Mo took a gulp or five, and let's not forget, this story takes place when Mo was in college and therefore, Boone's Farm was completely acceptable)
Shiraz: "Hey, if we take a picture of him do you think it'd count as a Sasquatch spotting?"
Mo: "Shut up. And you're walking home."
And that, my dear readers, is how it came to be that every time Mo discusses men with certain friends, Sasquatch comes into the conversation.