I was having dinner with the ladies when I somehow start talking with our waitress. I says, I need to go tanning. And she’s like, yeah me too. I miss it. So we start discussing how expensive it is in the city and how it’s cheaper in Brooklyn and blah blah. And then she mentions something about cancer and I’m like, oh yeah. Melanoma or whatever, right. And she’s like “You had it?” And I’m like, “No, did you?” And she’s like “Yeah. I had cancer on my back.” And I was like, oh. Well then I guess you could use bronzer then.
Then she left and I was completely offended by her ruining my mental tanning session. Because, what the fuck. It’s like me walking into a strangers smoking circle to talk about someone I know who just died from lung cancer. Not very polite, is it.
On a brighter note, Jamie and I stole the above pictured cup from said restaurant. You know how sometimes you walk into a place and spot a person and you’re like, I want that person and you don’t know what it is about them – it’s just the feeling you get? That’s how I feel about stealing stuff. I don’t know why I want it, I just do.
I spent the entire evening devising an elaborate plan to accomplish getting it. I coached the ladies on how to place their cups and calculated how long we had before we finished the beverages so that it was fully empty. It was trying. Then when the waitress wasn’t around, Jamie spilled her excess ice into my cup and speedily put it in my bag. It was exhilarating and all that mental anguish I had while planning was worth it.
Have a nice weekend.