My placenta-fresh lease on life has forced me to take myself out to various local clubs and bars; I don't know, maybe it's the just the cherished vision of Myself, fast-forward 30 years as a mascara-running Boozie that just puts a knowing smile on my face, but I sure do like drinking alone. And then meeting friendly strangers. I think the odds are in my favor as all the models must have vacated south or east for the weather approaching. Last night I told the cab driver to just take me to a cool wine bar. He took me to this place which barely had a sign, save for this one mysterious, lone letter of the alphabet: "M." I open the door to a room the size of a steam bath, it was the Gary Coleman of bars and I knew we would be fast friends. The gal behind the itty bitty counter offers a $3 DOLLAR glass of a lovely sangiovese. Then this guy who everyone knew walked in with his dog, literally named "Rin Tin Tin" (which I thought was funny). Rin Tin Tin jumped up on my lap and proceeded to curl up on me like a sweet little urine stain. Guy goes, "I guess you passed the test. Wanna go on a date?" while he. was. on. the. phone. I said, "Yeah, right, like you can handle your phone and this." And then I left. Tee Hee.
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