Urgh! BUSY. Sorry it’s been awhile since I’ve posted. The Oscars are next weekend and we’re just slammed at work. Chaotic. I did have a fun-filled weekend that I’m happy to report did not end with me in jail, with me in a dumpster with Cincinnati stamped on my forehead or me fishing through my wallet trying to piece together the prior evenings events based on my receipts. To sum up: it was almost a totally chill weekend.
By almost I mean Saturday could have turned out much worse because I drank pretty much the entire day, but it went off with only a few notable exceptions. First, I met a really cute guy (or at least if I wasn’t sporting the booze-goggles he was cute) and we really seemed to hit it off. Now, granted, I may have thought the conversation was incredibly interesting and entertaining and if asked he would say that the only coherent word I uttered was “vodka,” but this is my blog and no one is asking him, so let’s just tie on our jogging shoes and run with the idea that we really hit it off – except for a couple of minor hiccups.
At one point in the conversation I decided it would be fun if we all told our favorite pick-up lines, mine now being: “Can I buy you a drink, or would you rather I give you the 10 dollars.” That night it was: “Did you invite all of these people? Because I was really hoping it was going to just be the two of us.” They’re both good really, but from what I can recall, Mr. Cutie had a few great ones. I can’t remember how they went but I do remember laughing my ass off, and at one point, just before he dropped the punch line to one of his favorite pick-up lines, my boot got caught on the buckle of my other boot and I dropped faster than Mike Tyson in pretty much any of his matches since 1995. We all laughed (I mean it was hilarious) but who knows what ran through his mind seeing me eat shit with no provocation, or at least none that he was aware of as I decided further explanation would only make me look like I was trying to cover up the fact that I had been drinking, so instead I just got up and brushed it off.
The other potentially damning moment came as Mr. Cutie went to leave and, after having plugged my number into his phone, I said, “goodbye Dave.” Now normally this would not have been a problem but in this case, his name is Chris. So, needless to say, I have not heard from him (if I even gave him the correct number) and I’m not exactly holding my breath either. Oh well. Easy come, easy go. At least he has quite the story to tell the guys at his next squash game.
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