When is a lap dance just a lap dance? Apparently, when I am the one on the receiving end. Last night I went out for drinks and dancing and met with confidence busters at about every turn. Firstly, I got called out for wearing a striped shirt with striped shorts. Not a good beginning to the Summer of Seersucker. I ended up borrowing a too-small blue polo before we went out and ended up looking like some lame 12-year old frat boy. Those were some short sleeves.
Secondly, I have absolutely no idea how I went home by myself last night. All night I was dancing with a girl who was all over me. All night she had been bemoaning her situation with some douche she was dating. I ruthlessly and efficiently stepped in without pause. Hours of bumping and grinding later I thought, "I'm in." Nope. Music stopped, bar closed, she drove back to New Hampshire. Ugh.
Other fun tidbits:
1) A 25-year old kid making his 5th career start held the Reds to 1 run on 4 hits for 8 innings. Following this team is a complete waste of baseball season.
2) Everybody gets a little drunk and forgets to close their bar tab from time to time. But who makes a point to close out the bill and then still leaves their debit card behind? The Dunce Cap Marvel, that's who.
3) It takes some kind of genius to slice open their hand with a butter knife to try to dislodge a splinter.
WHAT ARE THE ODDS?
Seen while walking down a Salem street in a span of 10 minutes: Two completely separate station wagons with stereos blasting Metallica. What doesn't feel right about affordable transport for your large family mixed with the ear-splitting strains of hard-core heavy metal? I swear if I see some soccer mom in a Volvo rocking out to And Justice For All my shit will be officially flipped.
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2 comments:
Wait, you are picking up random women at bars AND talking shit about the Reds.
Are you a pod person?
Not a random. A co-worker, so maybe a good thing nothing happened.
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