Last night, I was at the Absinthe pub, enjoying a drink I didn't pay for. A friend of mine was supposed to let me into Winters Residence yesterday morning to cook. We had arranged to meet at 9:00 am sharp. Suffice it to say, I was forgotten outside, ridiculously holding an armload of groceries. I ended up making the soup in the microwave ten minutes before coffeehouse (yay microwaves). I got a beer out of it from my guilty friend. Hah! Guilt beer.
Anywho, as I was ordering, I noticed the bartender Erin grinning at me funny. She said;
"Hey, uh... why do you have the blacklight ab stamp on your face?"
"I do?"
" You totally do!" she called the other staff over to see it. Then it dawned on me. It was a print from 8 hours with my sleeping face smushed on my hand. The ab staff roared with laughter while they were pouring my beer.
Perhaps I should shower more often.
2 comments:
ps: no commenting kills blogs. Comment, for the love of fibre.
we are SO having a sleepaway camp night whrn you come to ptown. all three babe.
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