Oh the Pretty and Not Yet Psychotic Things in Life.


There is nothing better than sitting at an outside bar with a (very easy on the eyes) friend on a Saturday night pondering what to do.  That was great, in classic Sarah (and apparently T fashion) we picked apart EVERY SINGLE PERSON WE SAW.  No one escaped our scathing remarks.  Not that 40 year old man trolling for fresh 21 year olds, the sized 24 lady who wedged her otherwise nice ass in size 14s, and most of all not that 90% Guido we saw.  Talk about talking basically to myself.  Loved being on the bike, had a blast at pugs (again running our mouths) and even at Dino’s with the drunk suburban guys who were trying to convince T they had gotten shot at.  The line I used to get out of that conversation was HILARIOUS (even if it was untrue) and it worked.

“Excuse me, I’m halfway drunk, and while I enjoy talking to all of you, I’d rather hop back on the bike and go home to fuck my man.”

All 5 jaws dropped.  T snorted and I stifled hysterical laughter.  They went on to clap him on the back, telling him to enjoy “his woman” (hey, I was “his wife” earlier at Pugs when he retaliated after I tried to get an old cracked out acquaintance of ours to take his number) and bring someone who looks just like me to Pugs next Saturday.  *snort*

I think I laughed the entire ride back to my car.

It was a good night.  Next weeks should be even better.



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