Wednesday, October 06, 2010

Women are predictable

She was the best looking girl in the bar, the best dressed, and the best dancer.

Gorgeous woman.

She bitched on my friend, who she knew before hand, some cock tesong stuff,

She bitched on his friend, the way they usually bitched,

I was enjoying my beer by the bar.

Beer does not stay in the glass, so I had to get a new one, turn around to the bar, and there she is standing by the bar.

I get beside her, and this takes place in the next fifteen seconds (yes, rehearsed it just now):

I say, "You know all my friends here." she nods in recognition; I continue, "you know ___, ___, ___. even ___", she nods.

I look at her, say "But you don't know me." now she is looking at me, and I continue "Good so" turn my head, she is still looking at me, I notice the jaw drop, and continue "Better for you"-

At that moment, she hastily got pulled to the dancefloor by her friend who hit on me once, on a bad day, to get rejected, and then when I hit on her few weeks back shot me down, talk about ego. Holding a grudge for over a year.

I order my beer and turn to another friend of mine, when predictability shows its entertaining face.

I felt fingers on my back, scratching me,

Only to be ignored by yours truly.

I love this.

I just love this.

Veni vidi semi-vici, no rush on that. Time will come for the conquest of the eastern forests. A little fire to clear the way, always, always makes the invasion easier.

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