Heavens to Betsy, Exit Stage Left!

Earlier this year, my friend Rob came into the store where I work my second job and said that our old friend Loren was in town and that I should meet them at the bar later. Of course I accepted! I'm terrible at getting back in touch with people, but when they come a-knockin' on my door, I always let them back in. Then they usually throw me out and start peeing in my sink, but whatever. A little Comet and it's like new!

I went to the bar after I closed the store and had a pretty good time, even though I wasn't really drinking. After all, I had to drive back home and I really wasn't willing to sleep in my car again. I have a story about that but I'll probably wait until some other time to tell it. At the end of the night, after my friend Mike threatened to beat the crap out of the DJ, it was decided we'd all go to 7-11 to get some post-bar snacks. (Or is it 7-Eleven? Seven-11? I can never get it right.)

On our way out the door, I saw one of my friendlier customers on his way in. He was quite an amiable fellow when he came in for cigarettes, and always 100% there throughout the entire transaction. As I walked past him, I gave him the cool-guy nod you give when you're a cool guy and you want to let other cool guys know you think they're a cool guy as well. He shouted "HEY HEY HEY!", wheeled around, then grabbed and pinched my ass.

What the hell would you do after that? Hopefully something better than I did, which was go "WOO WOO WOO" like Dr. Zoidberg's Curly impression, then do an old Vaudeville exit out the door.

Anyways, I saw the guy in the store on Wednesday. He was a lot less friendlier then he usually was and wouldn't make eye contact. I mean, come on! Pinch a guy's ass and you don't even acknowledge him the next you see him? I feel so used. I need to go out for a bunch of Haagen-Dazs and watch The Notebook again.

Man, men are such pigs.