Ranting

We all pretty much know by now if I am in town on a Thursday night it means



with the peeps at our local pub and ale house by the office.

We get our drink on. We talk. We laugh. We snarf on nachos and breast of chicken sandwiches. Sometimes we play



Tonight we played pool. I'm not the best pool player but I can hold my own. I did alright tonight.

What I did not do alright with was the punk asses who think every woman wants to be hit on. Just because it is
1. Thursday night
2. I am out with a group of people
3. I am not wearing a ring

Does this mean I want you to hit on me. Incessantly. Can't you take a hint?

And no, for the love of all that is good and right in this world, I do not lean over the pool table and stick my butt out because I am trying to get your attention.

Hey you little freakazoid, how about I am leaning over the table and my butt sticks out because I am trying to make the shot?

Oh no. That'd be too much like the real deal wouldn't it?

And yes, I know you think it is hot that I'm in heels, drinking a martini, and clearing the pool table. But I, and I want you to hear this for the next time, I don't want your nasty breath in my ear letting me know how hot you think it is.

Go mess with the chicks playing darts. They look like they wanted your company.

Punk asses. Freaks.

Ugggggghhhhhh.

Thank god my boys let you know to back off or we were one step away from my heel being in your ass.