So like I mentioned in my last post, my birthday was Friday. I also promised to follow up with the events of my day. Well, I had a fantastic birthday!
My friend Patricia took me to breakfast early in the morning, I went to lunch with the family at the Spaghetti factory (too many carbs!), and dinner was the best. Well, dinner on! Patricia and my friend Danielle and I hit this brewery that was supposed to be fabulous. And it was! Our plans, were to hit the brewery and a movie, but after sampling the beer we, umm…indulged in more until we realized we wouldn’t be driving anytime soon.
We spent many many hours there. We ate (stone grilling! look it up!), drank, we flirted. We had a young hot waiter who was a huge flirt, and was excited to hear I wrote erotic romance. He then commented that there are never any black heroes on covers and only big white guys or cowboys. I had to point out the cowboys always sell really well. But I told him I’d name my next hero after him (Craig is now the hero in my third novella!) and mentioned it was already set to be an interracial story.
Anyway, tangent. But I remembered what it was like to socialize in a non-computer setting! I even flirted (Not with Craig, Patricia took care of that!) At one point a table of young pups (translate that into: mid-upper 20 year old men) began to hit on us quite aggressively, and even coaxed the entire bar into singing happy birthday to me. Right. So yeah, about that point I almost channeled my inner five year old to slither under the table, but resisted and instead just turned bright red.
I think the highlight of the night was the Scotsman in the bathroom with my zipper. Sounds dirty, huh? Not so much. LOL. Basically as I’m leaving the bathroom (in the doorway) with my friends the zipper of my fleece jacket got jammed, and I couldn’t fix it. Two guys with Scottish accents walk by and hand us a card about kilts or something. And then decide to help me out with the zipper. He fixed it in a two seconds flat to my disappointment. He would have zipped me up again and was trying to flirt, when his friend told him we were blocking the doorway to a lady who wanted in. *Sigh* To which he backed off and cursed in an adorably Scottish way at his friend for “always f*cking things up* and we girls slithered past him and out the door.
See, obviously I don’t get out much, because to me that was just a fabulously fun night! There was one annoying part, but I’m saving the rant/debate for that on Monday at Naughty and Spice. So drop by!
(Here we are, click to make us bigger!)
