<%@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.

 
 

January 17, 2006

post # 202; oh, the humanity

We met at a local posh hotel bar to get acquainted, and he definitely looked nicer than his photos, which is nice. He was a nice, well-educated and fairly interesting man. And we could've had something had I not completely spazzed out on the way to dinner.

We were on our way to a nice restaurant when the outside of my heel landed on an uneven part of the sidewalk just right. I swear to god that the fall felt like it was in slow motion. I went all the way down. Nope. No halfway, half-assed tumble for me. I came very close to doing an out and out faceplant. My sister and The Alabama Slama would have nearly wet themselves if they had been present.

The nice man didn't get to see the actual fall, but did help me up and told me, "Don't be embarrassed." First thought: "Uuuuhhhhh... too late." Second thought: "Karma's a bitch; a very funny bitch."

Miraculously, I was unhurt. He took me to dinner, which was expensive, and refused to let me contribute to the bill. Haven't heard from him since. Not surprised about this, mind you. Somewhere, out there, some nice guy is blogging about the total spazz he took to dinner and his friends are clucking sympathetically.

Hey, it could have been worse.

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