Bar Slum Party Listener

After the douchebag crew exit on my right, a woman seats herself… She appears sweet, and wiser in appearance of years… And she is awaiting her sire. In the form of a blind date. From online dating… And, after his legendary arrival and three minutes hath passed… It is decided. He’s a loser. He’s an old gent with a know-it-all complex, arms folded, and can clearly see that the louder and more all-knowing he professes to be, her insecurities shine through and she begins the dance of stupidity; Hoping the derfwad might be THE ONE. She complains about the online dating pool while he philosophically describes his take on the subject. I can’t take it. It’s annoying at best. And… suicidallly inductive at worst. Obviously, I have a big mouth, so i interject. Way too much… I know. I know. They’re crappy convo is NOT my business. But if freaking should be. My ear space feels part of their date tango. Hey, party listener – or, rather… EAVESDROPPER- slum it at another bar! Ugh. I know… Hush.

Mind your business RiRi!! Time to retreat back to my wine. Wine glasses should really be the size of a large hat. And as if the liquer fairy conveniently and quietly refilled my chalice while my head was turned, I toss back a 3rd glass of Merlot. I seriously cannot take the crazy- THAT IS-  in this restaurant this fine luxurious evening… Or is it afternoon? Eh. Who cares. It’s 5 o’clock somewhere. And as if, on cue, women whom I’ve witnessed -normally- works with are chiming in with their cackling and with their hen-like, mean girl group… They cluck, cluck themselves into my yackity-yack with the (cute) bartender, whom I want to talk to, and are even more obnoxious than the previous savants I’ve already had to listen to thus far. Savants used loosely, ironically AND sarcastically here. Really, where’s a quiet library when you need one? Or a polka dotted giraffe to ride out into the ocean? I’m not picky. Library or giraffe.