Bling, we'll just have to disagree on this one. You like for people to touch you, and I wasn't raised that way.
And now, a funny story that my wife will kill me for telling when she reads it.
You see, we have this male cat who's pretty damned cute. And we also have a new Hooters in town. One day, while talking back and forth to each other in our little cat voices, the male cat accused our female cat of not having any hooters. She didn't have a snappy comeback for him, and so it became a running joke between our two cats; the male preferred hooters and the female cat didn't have them.
Then, when we'd ride by our new Hooters restaurant, one of us would suddenly spot our male cat sitting at one of the tables outside partying it up with the Hooters girls. From there, it progressed that he had fallen in love with one of the waitresses (let's call her Sophia) and they had a hot fling going on. And everytime we'd leave the house, we were pretty sure he had scooted over to Hooters to live it up with Sophia.
Needless to say, all good things must come to an end, and our little guy and Sophia broke up. We heard all over town that it was a nasty break-up; he was really devastated and caused such an ugly scene at Hooters that he had to be thrown out. And Sophia lost her job over it. They stopped seeing each other completely, and unfortunately my wife and I can never eat at Hooters because of the humiliation we'd face over our little boy's nasty scene. We always wondered what happened to Sophia, though (even though we were forbidden from speaking her name in his presence).
Last night, we went out to dinner again at the little Italian grill that started this whole thread in the first place (which is located right across the street from the infamous Hooters). We were in a great mood and looking forward to good food.
Our waitress stepped up and said, "Good evening, my name is Sophia, and I'll be taking care of you this evening......."
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