lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Ol' Switcheroo So I go to the bar tonight in the hopes of seeing this cute guy I had a conversation with Saturday night. He's there, but he's with two girls, one of whom may or may not be his girlfriend, so I don't want to stir up any shit. I sit at the bar with DS, shooting the shit until he has to take his place by the door to sell drink tickets for Movie Night. Then, I pop a few quarters in the Touch Games machine, and start playing. This other guy, this anti-guy-I-went-there-to-see, sits down next to me. He's all, "So, what are you playing?" "Hooter," I answer, and laugh, because I mean, the game is called "Hooter." It's a completely non-sexual game, but I'm twelve, and I think it's funny. The guy smiles and does this thing guys do that I hate, which is this: "People tell me I have a dry sense of humor...." He kept talking, but I was lost in space. Because I mean, thanks. I'll keep that tidbit in mind for when I'm on You Jeopardy, and I'm in Final Jeopardy. When Alex reveals the answer to be, "People tell the guy in the bar he has this kind of sense of humor," I'm all up in that shit. I win. Whatever happened to asking a girl about herself? Telling her she has nice eyes? Or just striking up a non-invasive, non-self-flattering conversation? (For the record, Saturday Night Man was good at the casual conversation.) So he walks away (finally) and BT's all, "You let him get away?" And we laugh and laugh. And then he comes up with his movie ballot, where he has, in a show of flagrant disregard for the rules, selected two movies, instead of one. I tell him the rules, and I'm sure he thinks I'm flirting, when really I'm all, "Read the rules, dumbass." And this is my luck with guys. 11:05 PM - 12 July 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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