First off, thank you Doogs for all your sweet bday wishes! The day was nice and low key, culminating in 75-minute deep tissue massage at 3:00, my favorite cold-weather dinner — Grammy’s pot roast — and a spectacular pink cake proudly decorated by MP.
Tuesday night I DID go out for a few glasses of bubbly with some co-works. It was a dual celebration as Co-work QB and I share the same day. What are the odds?
We had a little food.
We had a little drink.
And were having a most excellent time.
And then Creepy came to dinner.
Creepy sat down behind QB, and, after ordering a glass of wine, produced a small notebook. He then began to write. ‘Take notes’ might be more accurate.
Creepy appeared to be writing down our every word. I think it’s safe to say, we are Very Interesting People (VIPs).
Attempting to alert QB proved fruitless — Creepy wouldn’t take his eyes off us for more than a second. I meanwhile (being the responsible 40-year-old I am), begin taking photos, in the event there was a future need for evidence … all the while, trying to nonchalantly appear as though I was taking QB’s photo.
I think he bought it.
QB certainly did.
About this time, she figured out what was going on.
And I started to get a little concerned. I finally got a good view of the notebook, however. I also got a good look at his face. Turns out he looked suspiciously like the actor Christopher Meloni.
In a psycho killer kind of way.
So, Creepy goes to the bathroom. We peek at the notebook.
And, with the entire bar watching — who, by now, have all seen Creepy and his creepiness — I lean over and take a hurried, worried photo.
In my haste, I forget to focus.
Thus, bringing to an end my short lived Pinkerton career.