The Heist...
Step and I were to have a quiet, dry dinner last nite, to talk as sedate adults about the vagaries of life as a thirty-something, but as the date drew closer, well, our plans morphed into a much more typical evening of beer drinking at home, followed by cocktail drinking at a bar, ending with leaving the tab for some people we hardly knew. Oh, and we stole the girl :D
Portrait of Step as an Artist
Chaton was invited, and he brought his friend Julia, who's just moved to Paris from NYC. She's a dancer, in case you hadn't noticed, altho I don't think that's where she lost her belly button. Doesn't that only happen on the cover of Vogue and Elle?
It was RIGHT THERE!
After a couple beers, we walked onto one of the islands of Paris, to a Canadian Pub. Step and Julia walked ahead of us, deep in conversation while Chaton bent my ear about Miami real estate schemes. Step, you owe me one.
Walking there... We met up with some male friends of Chaton's in this pub, but they found Julia so pretty, they could hardly dare to look at her, nevermind drag their tables over to ours. Chaton wanted them to meet Julia, but they were having none of it. Ah, the lonely life of the truly pretty girls...
Two is company, three's a crowd...
She and Step just kept right on talking, leaving me to try to make chitchat with Chaton, who was as agitated as a 3 year-old ADD with a sugar high, and not watching his mouth. At one point, he started yelling about this other girl he was hoping to get a call from, and I just stopped him, cuz you just don't do that in front of a woman. It's... uncouth.
Now, I was under the impression that Julia and Chaton were an item, but Chaton vehemently denied it : 'She's not my girl, I just brought her cuz she wanted to meet some people', pointing across the room at his friends... who cowered behind their beers.
But that's when I distinctly heard her whisper :
I believe I HAVE met someone...
Well, folks, the evening was a wrap. Step, Julia, and you trusty reporter left the bar, and the tab, to Chaton and his buds, went to Step's for a nitecap, and then, around two-ish, I drove her home to her mom.
Cuz the trains had stopped at one.
Location : Beauvais, France.
Devined by Mathieu at 2/19/2005 01:21:00 PM
3 Insights :
What makes a Canadian pub?
We have the obligatory Irish pubs here in Oz and they clutter the walls with pics of Ireland, flags of the different counties, Irish qoutations and U2 music.
I hope you are not subjected to Celine Dion or Bryan Adams at the Canadian pub.
By the way where did you get the blog translator from? it's really cool.
Sounds like you had a good night though!
Ozbhoy, first off, thanks for persisting in the face of Blogger's blatant lack of proper server power to post a comment here. I KNOW how slooooooow a process that is.
Secondly, a Canadian pub is defined by two things : moosehead beer and some weird dish that consists of french fries drenched in gravy and melted cheese. Forgot what they called it. I had something called a Quebec Iced Tea, which packed a kick like a mule. In every glass. I checked.
Thirdly, I got the translator from Google, and it's available for any webpage you want to read, as long as you can guess what language it was written in originally.
Lastly, it was a great night, and it would have been perfect if Chaton could make up his mind about girls and just stop making us so angry with him for being such a cutie AND so clueless with the ladies.
Cheerio, and all that, and you have a great weekend!
Sounds like a good time was had by all. I'm glad you had a great evening my friend.
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