I realized that I haven’t blogged another “bar story” since my first installment – and I happened to tell a friend this one today, so I figured I’d share with the group while it’s fresh in my head.

Maybe a month or 2 ago, I was at karaoke night, as per usual.  Eventually, the time came where I needed to head back to the homestead.

There’s a group of guys hanging out on the corner, and upon closer inspection, they are drinking beer (and also brandy, as I’ll find out later).  On the corner.  Outside of a bar.  Whatever.

As I walk closer, the looks start, and one of them says, “Damn, Girl!  Is that thickness for real?”

What I think: “No, you have NO idea how much I paid for these hip and ass implants!”

What I actually say: “Um…yes?”

Because, you know, I can’t actually give my snarky little quip to people I don’t know.  One must be polite to new acquaintances, after all.  Then the murmurs and whistles commence.  Because I am an idiot and I am nice and I like attention, I walk over and chit-chat for a few.  They offer me beer (and brandy), which I politely decline.  When more than one of the men on the corner decide that they’d like to feel my thickness (to somehow prove it’s realness, I suppose?), I bid them goodnight and make my polite and hasty exit.

IS MY THICKNESS REAL?!?!  Who asks that?