old men find me to be somewhat of a sexpot

wow you guys. it's been a rough couple of weeks. all i wanted to do was hide in my giant sofa by the fire with a glass of old vine zin, watching college basketball in the 9 degrees of icy chill cleveland's been offering me. and by that i meant, vodka with olives 80s dance party in my kitchen. curses. i can't lie to you people. instead of the comfy chair goodness i just described, i had to endure countless hours of cruel and unusual work punishment.

i don't think i was personally being punished per se. it only felt that way. the management is cruel and unusual so that's what i was feeling; them. and lots. (and i know you're gonna get me on that one.) all i could do was oblige and accept everything they were serving and nothing sucks the life out of me more than when i have to just take what people are giving. anyway, i think i'll be back for a while since, well, i'm not at liberty to say. sorry.

since you wouldn't be interested in hearing about the intricacies of my sad sack work situation, i will instead subject you to other situations that totally belong in this forum. the upcoming pair of happenstance tragedies involve two sirs; irish pete and big italian. knowing me, knowing you, i bet it won't be too difficult to imagine where this is going. was there vodka? well no, actually. maybe i'll just tell my stories since there's no way you would be able to guess at the contents of this neatly wrapped silver package i'm about to smack you in the face with.

let's begin with irish pete. he's the "homeless irish immigrant laborer who sleeps under the bridge at 14th" and i found him in an upscale restaurant where they serve amazing thai food in a cozy little atmosphere. he was sitting at the table beside us making nice with the wait staff. i noticed him because i notice people who are blending because they're trying to sort of stand out, if you will. he was sort of blending because he could but also starting to increase his unique presence until it popped. again, you're gross for thinking what you're thinking. so as he started to get theatrical, i decided to partake in the fun and *allow* him to join my party. he was going to join us whether we were okay with it or not so i figured it would be entertaining and played along with his homeless-ness game.

he slid over and told his homeless irish sleeping under the bridge story and requested some of my wine. and obviously i allowed the homeless man some wine. who wouldn't. he went on and on in his irish accent with his clean fingernails and more than decent clothes about how he sleeps under a bridge and we played along. finally he slipped and spoke of his days at OU. yeah kids, that's college. we also saw at least one $1000 bill slip out of his pockets. irish pete's jig was up and the waiters were visibly concerned that we wouldn't ever come back to their cute & cozy new hotspot so they helped us into a fib regarding our husbands who had called moments prior inquiring on our dinner status.

as we stood and found our way into coats, he came clean and boldly stated, "i just wanna get laid!". so i did what every good friend does and motioned over to my gal pal on the left as a good place to get such things. he then started talking about the dudes sitting at the front table and immediately lost interest. and...that was that. we left. thanks for the memories, irish pete. thanks for the memories.

big italian. you know what, he will be the next post. he deserves his own place in my little sunny area. and by that i mean, he wants to take me to the caribbean because he finds me so irresistible.