Get out of the cold

I've been confronted with numerous ways to escape being "single" in the past few weeks, although none of them are exactly what I want. The hazards of love are delicate thing.

On Friday, my friends and I decided that bar hopping through Hopkins was a great idea. It was. I ate this juicy Lucy that made things shimmer and pale in comparison. But a bar later, I discovered Derrick Williams, international copyright lawyer, who resides within. The Wild Boar is a terrible bar; the popcorn is awful and kids years--almost decades--younger than us were bogarting the pool tables. That left the shuffle board table open, and we played shuffle board. It's a terrible, fucking awful game. There's salt every where and you have to keep track of the score. Are you kidding? It's 2012. That is retarded.

As we left the Wild Boar, we noticed the exterior sign was broken--someone had ripped the legs off of the sign on the rear entrance to the building. I remarked to my friends that "this is some serious bullshit" and that "we should sue for some such bullshit" and we decided to return to the minivan. But as I turned around, some hot, extremely drunk broad opened the door, heard the end of our conversation, and said, "This is awful. We should sue about this sign."

Long story short, she invited us all in to a class-action lawsuit against the bar and its shitty sign. Like a gentleman and a practicing lawyer, I offered to represent us in the trial as a practicing international copyright lawyer. There was a small conversation that followed during which I realized that this lady was drunk. Like, DRUNK.

And I could have had that. But as a king of the lower-middle class, I had more important issues to attend. Part of me is always going to wonder what happened to the hot, drunk broad that wanted to engage in legal briefs with me. It's unfortunate that she liked that awful bar but as god as my witness, I will see her again. Bronson Tuggs, international copyright lawyer, takes only yes as an answer.