Networking Guy

I haven’t had much time to update, though. Had what I thought was a professional networking set-up a last week, but when he said, “Enough about work! I want to talk about YOU!” and leaned forward brushing the inside of my substantial, yet firm thigh, I realized ordering a vodka martini was quite possibly my first mistake of the New Year. If only blue cheese-stuffed olives tasted better on their own, rather than the succulent adventure they are when marinated in vodka, what happened next would be all the more clear. A belly dancer. A go-go boy. And some black girl named Shaneekwa rubbing her paws against me are all intertwined in flashes of the evening. Maybe not a tapeworm in that martini, but clearly a wormhole.