We liked it because they didn't card my prepubescent sister. She was a crotchety elder before she had her first drink. I liked it because the ceviche was excellent and because I knocked over that goddamn outdoor heater behind me. I forgot that shots are expensive when you pay for them yourself. Few weeks of straight sobriety and I dove head first into a goddamn tequila bar. It was a good night, but I'm already tired.
The only hours I ever walk are six, seven, or eight. AM or PM, I don't care. I'm just trying to avoid the sun. I don't mean to under appreciate it, I just get so grouchy under that fucking heat. Also, my wardrobe no longer provides for summerwear. Everything I wear is too goddamn warm. I can't stand sweating when I don't insist it.
It's already August and I'm still steadily estivating. If I have tomatoes for lunch again today, I won't complain.
Yesterday as we sat outside waiting for our table, I watched some tall blonde standing by the street. She eventually walked away with her average-looking, wealthy boyfriend (or dad, maybe suitor?), but my mind was stunned by the envy of her length. Never before had I been brought sadness by my very typical height. In heels, she peeked at six feet, nearly towering her pal. And I stared on at her legs and her arms with a sickly burning in my chest and in my fists, cursing very quietly in my head. Is this how it feels to wish your dick was bigger? As much as I'd always wished to be a guy, I couldn't risk being the one with a small dick. My pride couldn't handle it. And if I did luck out and was endowed largely, my pride still wouldn't be able to handle it. In summation, I'd be a shitty fucking person if I was a dude.
There's a cool, constant breeze on my naked nape. I pet myself incessantly. I enjoy it.
Low tables are a joy.
