"Andy" <q> wrote in message ...

> I can relate. Way back, about 1982 I was out late in a bar and I'd been
> hitting on the bartender for a while with no luck. I couldn't understand.
>
> Then one late night she was on my side of the bar drinking and I tried to
> seduce her, putting on my best charm and still she brushed me off and
> walked away. I made the executively stupid drunken mistake of muttering
> under my breath "*******!" and out of the corner of my eye I see her wind
> up with a bar globe-candle in her hand and let it fly. Missed me by about
> 6
> inches, if I hadn't ducked it would've been a direct hit. At which time I
> made a run for the door.
>
> We "kissed and made up" and wouldn't you know... a year or so later she
> named her firstborn son after me!
>
> Andy



Sometimes, you don't even have to be drunk to screw up. Back in the late
1970s, the woman next to me at a bar had one of those extremely short
(almost shaved) haircuts, with big hoop earrings - the African look that was
on the cover of Vogue so often. Unlike some women, this one actually had the
kinds of features that made the style work well. She was gorgeous, I was
breathless, and all I could come up with was "That's a gorgeous haircut!"
She looks at me and says "Asshole. I have cancer. This isn't a haircut".

Oh boy. Off I went to the foosball table.