The tall one and I went out last night, to a little joint called Cowboys.
Before I continue on with the tales of adventure, let me explain who the tall one is. She's my cousin and former roommate, visiting me from the Evergreen state for a little vacation.
While at Cowboys, we made a "friend." His name was Ken. I think. He was slurring a lot and I was trying not to pay him too much attention in hopes he would leave us alone.
Ken was a little (or a lot) on the creepy side. He kissed our hands a total of four times each. It was just a little too much for me.
The one positive thing I can say for Ken, he seems to read people pretty well.
The second time he found us, he was explaining that he had been contemplating doing something but knew that we would have one of two reactions. Either we would slap him or we would enjoy it. Neither the tall one or I asked him to clarify what he was talking about.
He preceded to tell us that he had made his decision and that he thought I would slap him and the tall one would kick him in the crotch.
Ken was pretty spot on. Thankfully for all of us.
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