<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Whisky Pants
     
     
     

Look, I'm not doing this for you, but for my own dark and twisted reasons. Oh, and because everyone else is doing it.

 
 

October 28, 2004

cursed. really effing cursed.

My mom thinks I should stop dating altogether. She'd feel better knowing that I just go to work and then straight home. While it's still light out. While carrying a bat or a golf club for protection.

While the Cards were letting the Red Sox take what little pride they had left tonight, I was robbed. While on a date. Most. Exciting. Date. Ever.

Thankfully, nobody was hurt, and my handbag was recovered intact. After having a little dinner at Cafe Saint Ex, my date and I headed over to Local 16 for a drink. I put my handbag on top of my feet at the bar and got engrossed in conversation (which was great, might I add) and the world's worst World Series on the tv. Next thing I know, my bag is gone and this homeless-looking dude next to me is stuffing something into his backpack.

Well, my instinct said, "this guy took your bag". My date teased me afterwards - he insists it wasn't any stretch of the imagination; the guy never ordered a drink, looked out of place (i.e. homeless) and stayed mostly hunched over shuffling the contents of his backpack. I maintain that my gut told me that this was the perp (look at me using the law enforcement lingo!).

After confronting him, chasing him down and having the Local 16 bar staff and my date corner him, we finally got my hand bag and the Metro police arrested the guy. Then, I got to go across the street and give a statement to the detectives! I so love law enforcement. All the uniforms and attitude and carrying of firearms. Seriously, I love those guys! I'm all about Law and Order and CSI and Third Watch.

Funny aside - my date tried to kiss me at the bar, and I totally rebuffed him. We've decided this was kismet - otherwise I might never have noticed that my handbag was missing. I'd also like to add that this guy is definitely over 6'0" (he says 6'4", but I'm not keeping track if he's still towering over me and I'm in heels), and he says that he does not have a gas problem or a shoe fetish. Fortunately for him, I've set the bar pretty low so he's golden. He was also a total trooper throughout the robbery drama. I kissed him right before heading home in the cab, and hopefully he'll go out with me again. But this time, no drama. Pleasepleaseplease, no more drama.

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