> It turns out I was way late: Greg and Jim and Roy and Tim were already
> rather enjoying themselves; Tim, in particular was well on his way to
> prying out the number of the beer girl, in her zip-front black spandez
> outfit and braces. Jim, for whatever perverse reasons like being engaged or
> something, apparently ripped up the napkin the first time...
> We ran into one of Clover's friends and her Indian boyfriend, but missed
> Tim's colleague, the sex therapist (who now runs a radio show reporting to
> B, my date to the McLachlan concert and friend of Jim's. Small enough a
Rohit!? What about all the fun we had? What about throwing coins at the
hookers? What about me getting a half dozen maggie's bought for me for
giving this guys girlfriend a hard time? What about the fact you had to
re-fill your little torch thingy and I showed you how to break the safety
feature off a lighter?
> Not soused quite enough, I followed Tim to House of Brews for a few more.
> Eventually, we got to arguing over the search for Intelligent Chicks (TM).
> I insisted I have a right to hold out for someone who, for example, reads
> the Economist, no matter how rare that might be in Orange County. He said
> that for my own mental health's sake, to lower my sights. I decided to walk
> over to the two women by the fireplace and get their opinion, but by the
> time we finished chatting, all that was left of Tim was a half-drunk El
> Tesoro margarita.
Yeah, had I not stopped for a Taco Bell supreme burrito that night on the
way home, it might just have been Bonham time for CobraBoy.
I got up feeling so down, I got off being sold out I've keep the movie rolling, But the story's getting old now I just looked in the mirror, Things aren't looking so good I'm looking California, and feeling Minnesota. <> email@example.com <>