Jul. 21st, 2007

You haven't lived till you've rocked out to a fat white man, with a fabulous black band, singing Purple Rain.  It was such a night in Youngstown.

Heather was like, "Come to the street festival downtown!  Wine tasting!  Music!  Great Band (afore mentioned white dude) at 11!  Come on out!"

Ok, let me shower.

It was fun.  Started out slow.  Lots of hanging around in the tent looking at people.  I hate people. 

I'm looking around for cute guys, wild women and really fierce outfits.  I'd been casually cruising this cute guy and his cute friend for a bit (They were the only cute guys in my field of vision).  Cute friend comes over and says, "I know you from somewhere." Um, ok.  Where?  "I dunno.  I was standing over there looking at you, thinking I knew you, but it's weird, I'm straight going up to another straight guy saying 'I know you.' Where do I know you from?"  Then he starts rattling off all these names and saying I probably ought drugs off him or something.  I never bought drugs off him.  You could count the number of times I've bought drugs on the fingers of a clumsy shop teacher.

Anywho, strange encounter with cute guy.  What do you think, should I have just said, "I'm not straight."  It was just such an odd meeting.

Dancing in the streets started later.  I ditched the leather jacket (it was a bit cold out, but dancing is warm) and let my hair down.  After a bit, this friend of Heather's tells me, "If you were a girl, your hair would be turning me on."  Translation, I was turning him on and it was weird.

'Nother friend of Heather's tells me that a group of girls asked her if I was single.  Hey, attention is attention.

After the music ended, I'd been dancing for a bit, this curvaceous, black girl pats me on the shoulder and tells me, "You've got the moves."

Wooo!

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breeamal

January 2008

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