Went to karaoke tonight.

We decided it was Goth Night, and dressed accordingly.

I went goth pin-up, sort of.

Black stockings, knee-length black dress with a slit up the back, corset underneath, pearl necklace, china-doll red lips, cat eyes.

It was pretty hot.

Oh, and mighty high heels that were very painful, but fortunately I didn't have to be on them much.

Anyway, there was this table of guys behind us that would hoot and holler every time I went on stage.

"YeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeAAAAHHHHH ROSIE! WOOOOO! YOU'RE HOT!"

And whistle and cat-call in, at first flattering, but increasingly annoying way.

I don't mind it once or twice, but repeatedly gets boring. I appreciate a man with brains, and these boys obviously had very little.

There was one who moved one table closer and was cat-calling loudly, even after I'd sat back at my table.

I turned around.

"YeeeeeeeeeAAAAAH ROSIE! You're HOT!"

To which I replied, with a wry, dry smirk and arched eyebrow, "Your tact astounds me."

He said, slightly confused: "YeeeeeeeeAAAAH!" once more, while his friend (who hadn't been cat-calling) laughed, and then more or less stopped cat-calling.

HA!

Stupid guy:

0 points.

Rosemart the Destroyer:

1 POINT!

I WIN AT LIFE!

Anyway, I'm tired and a little drunk, so I better go.

.

Rosemart, Destroyer of Fragile Egos.

PS, I went up to the bar with $10 Loren gave me and told the bartender - whose name escapes me - "I have ten dollars, I want a sweet martini, preferrably avoiding banana. Go to!" And she, much delighted with an oppurtunity to create, made me a Chocolate Covered Strawberry, that was PURELY alcahol, except for the cinnamon on the top. It was LOVELY.

Before&After