last night, my date asked me to tell him about the most shocking date i had ever been on. didn't have the nerve to tell him that it was the one i was sitting in.
who takes off their shoes at a baseball game and puts their nekkid feet on the chair of the person in front of them?
"the most shocking date ever"
who picks the dirt/dead skin/god knows what from their toes on a date?
"the most shocking date ever"
because i am a quasi nice person, i will not divulge the OH SO PERSONAL SECRETS that i was told by "the most shocking date ever". you don't even tell people that kind of shit when you've been dating six months, let alone six days.
so i ditched him and went to the tin roof with some kickball buddies. i never go to the tin roof- maybe 2-3 times a year. last night reminded me why. i just can not handle it.
so i went to the basement by myself, where i made friends with everyone in the bar with my stories about "the most shocking date ever". the basement saved my life. it is my betty ford clinic.
i will love that venue forever. and ever. and ever.
two random observations:
you are sooooo nashville if you wear pearls to a sounds game.
there is nothing more amazing than people doing what they love in a great pair of shoes.
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diggin for brass on shady lane
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