I Have Got To Stop Talking To Strangers.

So last week we had a girls happy hour and it was delightful. Excellent HH, ladies, I had fun! In fact, I had so much fun, I kept going. I decided to capitalize on my some French word I can't figure out how to spell that pretty much means good will so I stopped by Vickery Park.

I met these two dudes Ryan and Sergio who invited me to watch a movie. They're neighbors. So I went. I know. I can't believe I went either. Seriously. I know better than that. But I was curious and I have insomnia and I'm tired of being up late all by myself and I had no designs on either of them.

There are too many people out there who, while not evil sociopaths bent on my torturous death, just have too many issues of their own creation. And I like to sit next to them at bars and ask questions.

We never watched the movie. We pretty much just watched Ryan check his messages 48 times before he decided he wanted to hit on a waitress at The Corner Bar. I thought it was a bad idea, but I caved and agreed to chaperone the outing.

I should have gone with my gut. I ended up paying the tab for all three of us, which was not my intention at all. When the check came, suddenly Ryan and Sergio were not making eye contact. Whatever. I frown sternly upon them.

Ryan is nuts. He is involved in a toxic relationship and I think ol' Sergio may be a bit co-dependent. Ryan has called me twice. Once at 5:45 in the morning and once at 1 am. You must stop this random calling, sir. Nothing good can come of the middle of the night phone call. Note to self: Stop giving insane people your number, for God's sake.

My tendency to want to see what happens next has not resulted in my death or imprisonment in Hannibal Lecter's basement, but it also hasn't brought me a state of zen enlightenment either. That's why I say I have got to stop talking to strangers. The entertainment value of such shenanigans has rapidly waned in the light of day.

I blame it on my crushing case of insomnia. I will do pretty much anything to distract my brain so I can get some sleep. Except talk to more strangers. Present company excluded. Thank your lucky stars I can't blog away in the middle of the night. Like the late night phone call, nothing good can come of blogging after midnight.

Bonus Aside:

East Dallas' Best Named Business: Chupacabra's

We used to tease one of the bus boys at Wings N More at the end of the night. When he had to take out the trash, we told him the chupacabra was hiding behind the dumpster. Poor kid was terrified. One of these days, I'm going to get a snow cone at Chupacabra's and maybe buy a saint's candle to keep the evil eye at bay.