Talk Blocked

I was at a friend's birthday happy hour last weekend and meeting more of her boisterous friends. Just when I think I'm ridiculously rowdy...just when I think I've met my quota of brash, loud women, here comes one more.

She's GORGEOUS. I mean ridiculously, jaw droppingly pretty. She's so good looking that she has to pull a Harrison Bergeron and add disfiguring accessories so mere mortals can speak to her with less distraction. Does using obscure literary references in the name of mediocre humor make me Dennis Miller? Sweet Jeebus, I hope I'm more accessible than that! I'm serious people... she's like the vogue model that does the print ads for eyeglass frame companies.

And when two guys sidle up to the open table behind us, I direct their attention to the dirty food filled plate resting atop one of their barstools. It's dark on this second story patio and I didn't want them to sit on that. Nothing kills a buzz faster than an ass covered in pickle juice and reuben remnants.

The guys take my samaritanism as a sign of openness... friendliness... the blonde guy wearing a shirt and tie is trying to worm his way into some conversation with us, but she's having none of it. No sirree, Bob! She cranks up the volume... turns on the twang... and when that's not enough she dials up the attitude and adds a final tweak of harshness. Ouch.

The boys find an out before humiliation sets in. ... and then the birthday girl wants to know why I'm not chatting with the blonde anymore since "he was clearly into you".

Um....
1. I don't think he was into ME.... but I could have been mistaken.
2. Princess Pretty petrified the prospects.
... and this from a single girl! I had hoped I found a compatriot in her... another girl for a wingman, but how's that gonna work when she "talk blocks" me?