There's a bar near my house that advertises dueling pianos the last three days of the week.

There's always drunk guys out front smoking when I walk by, and general rowdiness, so I figured these dueling pianos must be pretty good.

So I checked 'em out tonight.

That's right. By myself. I went to a bar, by myself, didn't really talk to anyone, and brought a book.

I'm totally lame.

But what ever. So be it.

I was lame and also HOT.

I wanted to be hot. I'm tired of not being hot, when I know very well that I am.

Short black skirt, v-neck 3/4 sleeve black shirt, stockings with a wide woven fishnet pattern, and black heeled mary-janes (which I bought only a few days ago, during the eclipse).

Hair braided and pinned in a loop on the back of my head, light eye make-up, perfect pale skin, and red glistening lips. Very old fashioned.

Also, glasses, perched on the tip of my nose (I generally use them just for reading, detail work, and driving).

I looked like a sexually frustrated Russian librarian.

Definitely hot.

...if you like Russian librarians, that is.

Anyway, I went to the bar to get a drink, and after a quick scan of the bottles of liquor and the beer they had on tap (I don't have a lot of money, so I wanted something I could sip slowly, and that *could* be sipped slowly), I chose chartreuse (which, if you've never had, is delicious, though highly alcaholic; it's best to drink over ice if you can't deal with the high alcohol content).

(Their beer selection was terrible. I like beers dark enough that you can't see through them; everything they had on tap was piss.)

Anyway...yeah.

"What can I get you?"

"Chartreuse over ice, please," I said.

The bartender and the guy next to me whooped excitedly (I guess chartreuse is not popular), and the 'tender told me he take a shot of chartreuse every night, and the guy next to me insisted on shaking my hand, because first I walk in ("Looking like...the glasses on the nose...and *everything*...and then you order chartreuse!"). So it was handshakes all around, and I got my glass.

It was a rollicking good show. There were three piano players (who also sang) who traded off between two grand pianos.

You could go up and request songs for them to play, and if you slipped them a fiver, you were more likely to have your song played (though it didn't seem to be necessary).

Me, I sat at the bar, watched the show, laughed and occasionally sang along with everyone else, and read my book.

I started drinking early, though, at home in the bath with an enormous gin and tonic, so I barely remember what I read, but oh well. I shall read it again tomorrow.

Tomorrow is an Oscar party at James' house! I'm excited. I like parties (of friends), and he has a cat (named Spanky, because he loves being spanked).

Good times, good days.

.

Rosie.

PS, Still bitter about boys. Still got my hate on.

Before&After