one (of the many) things I love about my friend G: she's always up for a night on the town.
we typically venture out to an area of The City where all men wear gingham button up shirts, or plaid.
on my way over to meet her, via public transportation, a caught a large seemingly homeless man, giving me the up-and-down.
bow-chikka-wow-wow
note: i say 'seemingly homeless' because i am not one to jump to conclusions. the man had a cart full of garbage and was carrying a large Hefty bag. he also smelled like a dumpster. i kept my distance.
is there anything more awkward than making eye contact while someone is checking you out?
he gave me the head nod, then said
YOLO
ohhh Mr. Yolo. I may only live once, but even if I was a cat with 9 lives, you would never be my type. im sure you understand.
our favorite bar was closed.
after i recovered from my panic attack, we found another establishment.
the night remained uneventful until we left that scene and headed down the street, on foot.
i high-fived a cute drunk boy.
then i heard someone shouting my name.
note: my name is extremely common. thanks mom and dad.
the shouting continued.
a car pulled over and out popped a friend of Mr. REA.
what a small world.
we called Mr. REA and flirted with unattractive men for free drinks until he showed up.
and at closing time, i sang the song Closing Time.
i'm tone deaf.
and now all my friends know that.
yolo.
