German Beer Makes for good stories...

I know, I know. I've been a slacker for the past week or so. I don't know what my problem is, but I just haven't been posting. It's not for lack of material. Hell, last weekend I went to Oktoberfest at the German-American Society (pictures will be posted soon) and met what appeared to be a nice guy. Yes, he was a little intoxicated, and he was wearing white socks with black shoes (a HUGE NO-NO in my book), but 1.) at that sort of festivity, who ISN'T a little intoxicated? and 2.) The White-Socks Black-Shoes issue can easily be resolved once a relationship starts...it's like buying a house where the walls need to be painted...just a quick, easy cosmetic fix...and a little brainwashing. No biggie.

...any-hoo, I don't remember his real name- John? no. Jim? no. Bill? no. Chuck? no. oh well (nice). Meghan coined him Wolfgang Wechter (the last W pronounced with a V sound). After almost falling because he 'leaned' on an imaginary wall (go ahead, take a minute to giggle....I am), he promptly sat down next to me and for lack of better words, started hitting on me. No big deal, right?--I mean, a lot of us ladies have been hit on by drunk men before...

Shortly after beginning the typical getting to know you conversation ("Yep, I've lived here for about 6 years...work downtown...I'm an Aries"...etc), he wanted Meghan to take a picture of "us." Crazymansayswhat? I was thisclose to making an "I'm-so-freaked-out-by-this-guy-wanting-to-take-a-picture-of-'us'-together" face (for those of you that know me you know that I have slight issues with the 'us' factor that quick into a relationship) but THANK-GOD I didn't, as he requested to see it after she took it--damn digital cameras. I knew there was a reason I liked the disposable ones.

He apparently wanted all of my attention, because any time I would turn my head in a different direction or talk to someone else, he would ask me another question and get an inch away from my face while asking. (BTW, I am a BIG promoter of The Personal Bubble. Take notes, people. There might be a quiz later regarding TWR's 'issues.') At this point, I'm still giving this guy a chance....kinda. I look at Meghan and give her the "what should I do?" look and she seems unfazed. At that point, I tell myself the usual: "She's married, she knows what she's doing. You're being too picky and getting freaked out over nothing. Stop it."
My friend Mary, whom I've known since grade school, stopped by to see us and have a few German beers. Wolfgang gave up his seat (awww..chivalry is nice), but apparently wasn't too 'into' the fact that I had someone else occupying my time and conversation. Next thing I know, I look over to find him talking to another woman. Hmm, maybe that's his sister... They're standing awfully close to each other...Wait, why is she tossing her hair and tilting her head back like that when she laughs? Is..Is she...Is she flirting with him?! I had to laugh at this point. I mean, I didn't talk to the guy for maybe 5 minutes and he's already "moved on." Oh, but it gets better. The woman he was getting cozy with, was...well, I don't know how else to say this................
WEARING A SCRUNCHIE.
I do not lie about a subject as serious as this. And to make matters worse, it was pink and strategically placed on the TOP of her head. Repeat: the TOP of her head. Who does that?! I stood there speechless. I mean, don't get me wrong. I rocked the scrunchie in my day, but that was circa 1990 (maybe) and that one random 80s theme party in college about 8 years ago.

All that went through my head at this point was: I got 'traded in' for Scrunchie Girl. I got traded in for Scrunchie Girl?! Really?! Just about this time, I looked at Megs: She was laughing her ass off. I know she was thinking: "You totally just got traded in for Scrunchie Girl. This is freaking HILARIOUS."

I probably don't have to tell you how this story ends, but I'll do it anyway for emphasis:
Wolfgang and Scrunchie Girl left together.
I spent the night on my best friend's couch.

Awww...the life of a single gal.
At least I got a story from it, right?

Until next time...