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Christopher Martin’s

So last night, Jillian went out with her friend Angela. I had been sitting in front of a computer all day, and was feeling kind of strange and anti-social, so I elected to stay home. That is, UNTIL I had a couple of beers, and then the social fires were lit. So I did something I very rarely do…I went to the bar down the street by myself.

Going to a bar by yourself is a weird undertaking. You KNOW you’re not going to talk to anybody, and you are there for just one thing: To stare vacantly at a televison and drink. The Notre Dame/Penn State game was on, and I watched, nursing a few pints.

The best part of the evening was NOT when an honest-to-god WOMAN tried to pick me up (I swear, nothing makes you feel your age like a bleached-blonde 30something with wrinkles trying to chat you up). The best part was how beautifully I faked man-talk. A dude next to me started chatting about the game, and I found that if I just took everything he said, waited a sentence, and repeated it back, I was believably rugged and in-the-know.

Fella next to me: “Man, I can’t believe they’re running the fuggin’ clock out. DO something!”
Me: “Seriously, with that much time on the clock, you’d think they could pull something out!”

I don’t know who we were rooting for. I don’t know what we were talking about. Oh, and finally:


That’s funny, I could have sworn I only had three.

There Is 1 Response So Far. »

  1. Probably because you look so HOT with your hair cut.

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