Y’all, I just want to point out that, in the comments to my last post, Kleinheider is whining because he didn’t get a lunch invite AND YET this is the very same man who wouldn’t come out to lunch with me on my birthday. My birthday! The man turned me down for lunch on my very own birthday and now he wants to be included in on “Conservatives Gang Up on B. Day”?
Listen, Mister. I don’t know how it works in paleoconservative land, but here in America, if you turn a girl down when she asks you to lunch on her birthday, of all days, after she’s gone to the trouble of putting on the good bra so that, even if you’re bored by her company, you have something entertaining to look at, you can’t expect that she’s later going to be all “Gosh, I bet Kleinheider will find this fun. Maybe we should ask him along.” No. I’m sorry. It just doesn’t work like that.
My honor has been impugned. And, without some kind of wergeld*, there will be no lunches with me for you, young man.
Anyway, lunch was a riot, as you’d imagine and no one hit or kicked me, though the proprietor of the establishment we were eating at seemed to keep insinuating that I might make this song my theme song.
But the most fun was down to the State Library and Archives where the guard taught me that the trick to counting cards is to watch the shuffle. Sweet Jesus, how awesome is it to just be walking around minding your own business and to have some card shark spend the hottest part of the day showing you how to make sure no one’s dealing from the bottom of the deck?
*You have to talk to paleoconservatives in terms they can understand. I throw out these thousand year old germanic words just to make Kleinheider feel at ease here at Tiny Cat Pants.