musicankane
I blew a monkey once.
- Joined
- Dec 30, 2004
- Posts
- 15,638
The worse part about having a birthday on Valentine's Day, is spending it alone. How sad does one have to be to be sitting in a singles club on Valentine's Day, and your birthday all in the same night? Of course I could be hanging out with friends, then again all my friends were dealing with their girlfriends tonight. So here I sit, on the corner stool of PJ's Pub sipping Coors Light from a frosty mug, watching the other loser men trying to pick up on the stock of female cows here tonight.
PJ's was normally a cool place to hang out. Good food, good beer, big screen TV's playing whatever sports was in season. On Valentine's Day though, the local fair downgraded to douche bags with too much grease in their hair, and homely girls who couldn't get laid on any other night. The pub itself was a comfortable enough space. Long stained black oak bar, and a series of standing tables scattered throughout the rest of the room. The lighting was dim, which tonight was a blessing, and the walls were lined with random pictures of sports heroes and classic cars.
I was probably seven ounces into my fifth beer, working my way toward the twenty-six beer birthday limit. I wanted to see if I could drink enough beers to match my age. I was making good progress. Anyway I was bottoming out my seventh beer when she walked into the room. It's hard to describe what happens when someone so insanely attractive enters a room of desperate singles, but I imagine it's like suddenly becoming a giant walking asshole magnet.
When this woman walked into the bar I was sitting perched on a bar stool in my favorite spot. It gave me a great view of the only entrance into the bar. I glanced up when the door opened and the evening sunset cast a glow around her silouetted frame appeared. I didn't know what she looked like, the backlight casting a shadow on her front, but other people in the bar could see her clearly and it was quickly apparent that someone unusually pretty had walked into PJ's.
From my perch on the barstool I could hear guys cat calling this mystery woman. She brushed past them without so much as a glance, clearly she just wanted to get her business done and be left alone. Bummer really.
I turned my attention to my beer when I felt someone take up the seat next to me. It was her, I glanced over in time to see her purse fall to the floor. She made no move to get it, and didn't even seem to notice her purse had fallen. I glanced out of the corner of my eye and said, "Your purse dropped."
She jerked her head toward me, "Can you please just let me have oe fucking beer without getting hit on?"
I opened my mouth, then shut it and sighed. I bent over and scooped her purse up off the floor and set the bag on the bar between us. "I'm not hitting on you, your dropped you purse." I said calmly and went back to my drink.
What was this woman doing here? She was incredible looking. Like a model, long brown hair that shimmered in the soft light, light blue eyes, incredibly flawless skin and a perfect body. Yet here she was on Valentine's Day, alone. Just like me, only it probably wasn't her birthday.
PJ's was normally a cool place to hang out. Good food, good beer, big screen TV's playing whatever sports was in season. On Valentine's Day though, the local fair downgraded to douche bags with too much grease in their hair, and homely girls who couldn't get laid on any other night. The pub itself was a comfortable enough space. Long stained black oak bar, and a series of standing tables scattered throughout the rest of the room. The lighting was dim, which tonight was a blessing, and the walls were lined with random pictures of sports heroes and classic cars.
I was probably seven ounces into my fifth beer, working my way toward the twenty-six beer birthday limit. I wanted to see if I could drink enough beers to match my age. I was making good progress. Anyway I was bottoming out my seventh beer when she walked into the room. It's hard to describe what happens when someone so insanely attractive enters a room of desperate singles, but I imagine it's like suddenly becoming a giant walking asshole magnet.
When this woman walked into the bar I was sitting perched on a bar stool in my favorite spot. It gave me a great view of the only entrance into the bar. I glanced up when the door opened and the evening sunset cast a glow around her silouetted frame appeared. I didn't know what she looked like, the backlight casting a shadow on her front, but other people in the bar could see her clearly and it was quickly apparent that someone unusually pretty had walked into PJ's.
From my perch on the barstool I could hear guys cat calling this mystery woman. She brushed past them without so much as a glance, clearly she just wanted to get her business done and be left alone. Bummer really.
I turned my attention to my beer when I felt someone take up the seat next to me. It was her, I glanced over in time to see her purse fall to the floor. She made no move to get it, and didn't even seem to notice her purse had fallen. I glanced out of the corner of my eye and said, "Your purse dropped."
She jerked her head toward me, "Can you please just let me have oe fucking beer without getting hit on?"
I opened my mouth, then shut it and sighed. I bent over and scooped her purse up off the floor and set the bag on the bar between us. "I'm not hitting on you, your dropped you purse." I said calmly and went back to my drink.
What was this woman doing here? She was incredible looking. Like a model, long brown hair that shimmered in the soft light, light blue eyes, incredibly flawless skin and a perfect body. Yet here she was on Valentine's Day, alone. Just like me, only it probably wasn't her birthday.