I am an OLDER Woman... (Yikes)

The Bartender is younger than me. 5 years younger. Is this enough to make any sort of difference, really? It certainly feels like it this morning, kids.

OK, now don't jump to salacious conclusions. Even if I were the sort of girl who'd kiss and tell there's not that much to tell. Except that we stayed up 'til after four freaking a.m. What possessed me?!?

We watched a movie, which was fun. Ate pop corn, also fun. Then switched to music and some insanely maddening bicker about the UNRUH Act and whether or not men are really injured by Ladies Night promotions... and then WHAMMO. Its four in the morning and reality strikes in the form of Number Three at 6:45 ~ wanting breakfast.

Oh Blog Monkeys! I am tired.

But I still took my charge to call The Bartender at an appointed time (OK, I'll tell you it was 9:45, lucky bastard!) because his alarm clock is currently not certain if it really wants to be an alarm clock at all anymore, or just a paper weight.

So I dial, and there's no ring... Cause his phone is OFF. And it's still off.

Perhaps he will think that I've nearly killed him as well. When he finally wakes up. Late for work.