That doesn't happen in real life, just FYI. It's a lovely song, recommended to me by my near, dear Angie Girl, but the title must be purely fictional. I should know - being sick and stuck at home with two crazy parents and two rambunctious nephews lead me to test the notion repeatedly throughout the weekend. Granted, I was still sniffling and hacking up mucus, so any potential suitors who may have fallen in love with me may have possibly been deterred. But that being said, I'm still waiting for the love of my life to stumble upon me in my neighborhood cafe. I'll let you know when it happens though, so check back.
So yeah, my demonic virus kept me more or less restricted to the ten-block radius surrounding my house this past weekend. My penny-slot loving sister and her hubby hit up Las Vegas for a birthday celebration, so my ridiculously good-looking nephews stayed at mi casa. I had a fantastic time reading to Josh and squishing Zach's fluffy, fat cheeks, but after my parents' fiftieth argument over which temperature to keep the thermostat, I had to get out. I bundled up my sick ass and went to see Atonement which was pretty quality and Keira Knightly's protruding clavicle was only minimally distracting. Afterwards, I headed to a coffee shop with a big book and the optimistic hope that some local, undiscovered hottie would see me and wonder who on Earth that mysterious, hacking beauty might be. No such luck, but I scored a squishy chair and the barista was surprisingly adorable. I might have mistaken his sweetness for genuine affection if I hadn't see him treat the drunk, homeless guy at the counter exactly the same way. Either way, I emptied all my change into his tip jar...you know, just to applaud good service.
After a 40+ block walk in the rain on Sunday (all the while coughing up a lung...I'm telling you, anything was better than sitting in that house), I returned to the cafe again, book in hand. While I was happy to see my coffee boy behind the counter, I was more than a little disheartened to find a live band playing at the maximum decibel level and all squishy chairs occupied. I sat on a hard bench and pretended to read while my ears bled from the noise and I repeatedly sent sneaky looks at the espresso bar. After an hour, I couldn't stand it anymore, so I walked out, deaf and loveless. But I'll keep this hobby up for sure, so any and all developments will be posted in the future.
In other news, thanks to my bartender-trained companion Whitney, I now know that I'm a lush:
82%LUSH
Find out what you are here: http://www.justsayhi.com/bb/booze.
Have fun and drink responsibly.
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