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Tuesday, December 30, 2008

My drink with Andre…or Andrea?

Okay, I’m sitting at the bus stop waiting for the number 5 bus. It’s kind of cold, but at least I’ve got a jacket on. It’s 8:21 pm and the plan is to potentially meet a friend or acquaintance at a cafe for coffee and a chat.

Does that sound fuzzy?

It is. Let me explain. You see, a couple days ago I got a text message from this person asking about getting together for a drink. Now when the text message came through, I kinda sorta recognized the number but it’s not in my address book. It should be. I’m sure of it. So this texter didn’t sign the message, so me being me, I didn’t ask. I should know, right? So I figured the messenger would text something that would clue me in and I’d be home free.

The texter didn’t.

So I had a pretty good idea of who it is, but when I suggested we meet at “Muddys”, she asked where it was. Hmm. We’ve met there before, me and this texter friend of mine, so maybe it’s not her?


Okay, the bus should be here in about a minute…so I’ve got to sign off.

Yeah, I’m a loser!

UPDATE: Right as the bus arrived, my mysterious texter texted me asking where I was and offered to pick me up! Heh! I graciously declined.

UPDATE 2: Hey, it just dawned on me. What if it’s a “wrong texter”? It’s happened before. More than once. What if we both show up at Muddys and, not knowing the other, both get stood up? Oh geez, this is getting more and more silly as it goes along…

UPDATE 3: Posting this on the bus, using my aircard because it needs to get posted now. Heh.

1 comment:

Sidney said...

Sounds like a great opening for a story. What if you got there and it was someone you didn't know who wanted you to...

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This is me and one of my two cats. His name is Cougar, and he’s an F1 Chausie. A chausie is a new breed of cat under development. Chausies are the result of a cross between a domestic cat (in Cougar’s case, a Bengal) and a jungle cat (Felis Chaus). Cougar’s mom is 8 pounds and his father is a 30-pound jungle cat. He’s about 16 pounds, super intelligent, spirited, and toilet trained. A writer without a cat (or two) is not to be trusted.