But back to the fun of Saturday. There were wonderful cocktails and great conversation. And then there was dancing. Zombie Mom kept on making statements about "stealing a man" on the dance floor. I felt obliged to comply. Because part of my personal soundtrack is Salt 'n' Pepa. Yeah, I know. Kind of mean but kind of fun too.
On my way home, I also felt obliged to stop at my fave bar. I mean there was one parking space in the block -- right in front of the front door. I took it as a sign. (And part of the hell of Sunday was walking back to get my car. Because the ideal "fave bar" is close enough to home that one does not need to drive there.) Zombie Mom was not surprised when I told her yesterday. How can a gal hate a place in which the men buy you drinks and tell you how fabulous you look?
Shortly after arriving, some really drunk, kind of crazy guy started talking to me. I didn't mind because he was kind of entertaining and his friends were buying the drinks. He walked away for a bit and one of his friends started talking to me. Then the friend went to talk to his buddy. Next thing I know the first guy had grabbed the second guy by the throat and had slammed him up against the wall. Apparently the first guy didn't like his friend talking to me. Said something about his friend was trying to mess with his game.
Ahhh. Nothing like some OPH and leather pants... It's been a few years since I have worn the combination and as a result, I had forgotten their power.
Oh, and damn it to hell. I found this through a post that Fluffycat was kind enough to share in her reader.
Created by OnePlusYou - Free Online Dating
What do I have to say about my results? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!