As I write this, I'm sitting at Hooter's in Clarksville, notebook in hand. Or notebook on bar actually. It's my pen that's in my hand. I bet it would be a lot harder to write if those positions were reversed.
The perverts next to me keep hitting on the pretty bartenders and scaring them away. This really sucks for me, because I'd kinda like to surreptitiously
drool look at the pretty bartenders, but I can't when they keep getting scared away to the other end of the bar.
Anyway, I'm here with my notebook because I'm thinking that a change of scenery might do me some good. Inspire me or something, maybe. I probably could have written something last night after I became superfluous and moved from the living room area to the bar. But I didn't have my notebook with me. Oh well. Probably for the best. I was in such a crappy mood, and I bet that anything I'd have written would have reflected that mood. Unlike the light and breezy stuff I ended up writing after I got home last night.
You can all thank me later, if you'd like.
So I'm in Clarksville at this Hooter's because it's kinda on the way home. Kinda. A couple of hours ago, I was at a friend's house watering dogs and feeding fish and (inadvertently) scaring a cat. Poor kitty.
Then, I went to Famous Dave's for some dinner. And now I'm here. Like I said, kinda on the way home.
Pretty exciting stuff, huh?
And now I'm going to stop writing because BadPickleGirl has called me to see if I want to go hang out by a swimming pool with her.
Well, that was fun. False (inferred only) advertising though, as she was fully-clothed at all times. So no bikini action. There were also two dogs there, so between my friend's three dogs earlier and these two dogs tonight, I'm pretty much dogged-out.
Plus, my cats are all afraid of me now because I smell like dogs.