I went out to the Frog and the Firkin last night with friend doing some significant damage control. I sat there listening as he poured out his heart and blew some Captain Black smoke in my face. I was loving every moment of his honesty and the whole patio scene since it is almost warm enough to be outside for extended periods of time.
While we were sitting there conversing minding our own business two men set up shop with a pitcher of beer and interrupted our conversation with random thoughts on philosophy.
Last term I took that class and barely passed so I sat there with my mouth closed yet completly engulfed in the conversation at hand. It's always nice to learn from other people while they are enibriated.
Both were quite older than the 23 years that I posess and I sat there wondering if when I get to be their age if I would be out drinking on a tuesday night - excessive amounts that is.
Turns out the answer is no because #1 I hate the taste of beer. #2 I would rather be in my Pj's than out at 2 in the morning.
I continued pondering these facts and I was interrupted by his voice.
" Stop looking at me, I can't handle it. " I respond but was not even aware that I was staring "I am sorry. Why is that?"
" You are deceivingly perverse."
Tis the end of my story of the Native Canadian man who thinks I am a pervert.
4 comments:
well... you are.
I think your new nickname should be 'Perve' Much more flattering than 'Crotch'
bring it on phaythe...I'll show you who's boss;)
who's the boss? Bring it Sista... I mean, you can consider it brought!
Perve!
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