Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea by Chelsea Handler Page B

to contain your excitement,” he replied. “It’s a little overwhelming.”
    “I’m sorry, I’m fish-sitting and the fish doesn’t look good. She’s upside down and not moving. Is that how they sleep?”
    “Does it plug into an outlet, or is it battery operated?” he asked.
    “The fish?” I asked.
    “Yes,” he responded.
    “I would assume it’s battery operated since I don’t see a plug, which, by the way, would be really dangerous, considering it lives in water.”
    “Good observation. Sounds to me like she’s dead.”
    “Oh, that’s just perfect,” I said. “I’ve only been fish-sitting for two days, and I already killed her?”
    “What kind of fish is it?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. The orange kind.”
    “A goldfish?”
    “Yeah, that’s it. It’s a goldfish.”
    “Well, just go get another one. They all look the same.”
    “How much is that going to run me?”
    “I think they’re like a dollar,” he said.
    “That’s a little more than I wanted to spend.”
    “So, anyway,” he said, changing the subject. “I decided I want to take you to dinner.”
    “Oh, really?”
    “Yep; I’ll pick you up tomorrow night around seven.” This turned me on immensely, and at the same time sounded to me like false arrogance. Like a guy who was trying really hard to pretend he wasn’t insecure. I didn’t let that overshadow my decision because either way, I love a man who takes charge. But I also didn’t want to seem too eager.
    “How do you know I’m available for dinner?” I asked. “I’m a very busy girl.”
    “Are you busy?”
    “Not really.”
    “Good, see you tomorrow,” he said, and then he hung up on me.
    Whether it was organic or forced, I was extremely attracted to Big Red’s take-no-prisoners approach. My mind quickly raced toward the future and I wondered what it would be like to have redheaded children. I had the same fears interracial couples must have when deciding what society’s effects might be on a child of mixed race. Would they be discriminated against because of their hair color? Never mind the cluster of freckles that would accompany that color of hair and the incessant teasing they would have to endure, being compared to Connect the Dots or, God forbid, Lindsay Lohan.
    I looked down at Maude again and decided to leave her in her bowl until I found a replacement for her. I thought it would be in everyone’s best interest that I wait until the day before Darryl was supposed to return to buy a new fish. That would leave a very small window for me to commit another homicide.
    I was very much looking forward to my date with Big Red, but also scared that when I saw him sober I might not be attracted to him. Obviously I would need to drink heavily before my pickup time.
    Three weeks and about eight dates later, Big Red and I decided it was time for penetration. I was very surprised to find myself becoming more wildly attracted to him every time I saw him. Each date we went on, his hair became less and less of a focal point.
    I didn’t intend on waiting a certain amount of time to sleep with him, but since he knew my manager, and since I was technically sleeping with Darryl, who was still away shooting his movie, I decided to behave somewhat respectably. Obviously a threesome would be out.
    What I was completely astounded by was the fact that Austin was packing some serious heat. Not only did he have a huge penis, but he was great in bed, and another added bonus: He had extremely sensitive nipples. I had never met a man with such sensitive nipples before, and took enormous delight in the fact that the minute I touched one, he would climax. I wanted to thank the person responsible for inventing the nipple and applaud them for creating such a great addition to the human form. Who knew nipples could be so much fun? With that knowledge in hand, sex never lasted a second longer than I wanted, and I considered this to be the jackpot of all jackpots.
    The part that