art

so, me in all my awesomeness went to the grocery store last night to pick up a few essentials.  in the organic egg aisle, this gentleman, art, approached me and said, “ooooh-weee, i love those boots you’re wearing.  you’ve got a good look going on there.”  i of course thanked him, where he proceeded to shower me with even more compliments.  and i let him carry on.  and on.  he introduced himself and said he wasn’t being fresh at all, he was sincere in what he was dishing out and oh, by the way, had a big birthday coming up.  i said, “well, i myself have a big one coming up in a couple years.”  but he had insisted his was way big.  i said, “let’s hear it, how old?” 

art:  62. 

62?  is that a biggie i’ve missed?  since when did 62 become a “big” birthday? 

the point is, this is who hits on me now.  62 year old men in the egg aisle.  oh wait, he’s only 61.  he’s got the “big one” coming up. and again, hate to post without a photo, so here’s a fall cocktail, my version of a cable car martini, capt. morgan, triple sec, fresh lime juice, splash OJ, cinnamon-sugar rim.  served in vintage glass on a vintage rooster cocktail napkin.  and herein lies the connection.  rooster.  hen.  eggs.  egg aisle.  me.  art.

i know i know – it’s a stretch.

good times.  i got a chuckle anyway.