You Makin' Fun Of Me, Bitch?!

So after the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club show I went to Pizza Lucé.  BTW, I've wanted to see BRMC for the longest time, and I'm glad this show was not sold out.  They front-loaded their set with the hits ("Love Burns," "Ain't No Easy Way") and back-loaded the deep tracks to the end, which is what most acts do, which I never understand because the energy flags at the end.  Why not reverse that?  You have the audience in the palm of your hand whenever you do one of your most well-known songs and when you first step out onto the stage.  Separate those two elements and you have a connection with your fans virtually throughout the entire show.  Who cares if you start off with the non-singles off your latest album?  They love you just for being out there.  Anyway, the bassist was the chatty one while the guitarist and drummer didn't even so much as wave goodbye, but I guess that's rock-and-roll for you, so maybe I should have expected that.

After that I didn't want to immediately go home.  Nor did I want to go to My Favorite Late-Night Italian Place because I didn't want to spend that much money on food when I already had dinner.  But then I realized that I won a free desert from the Pizza Lucé Wheel of ... Free Stuff, I guess, at a Minnesota RollerGirls bout.  I'm downtown, I could have a small bite of something, it's free, and when would I ever be downtown on a late Saturday night again?  The stars were aligned for me to go eat there.

But I just thought I could buy it and eat it there.  Instead I had to dine in, and according to the lady that helped me, that at least meant I had to sit at the bar and ask for a tiramisu from the bartender, and all he did was go over to the other side of the restaurant (the side I first went to), take out the plastic case of tiramisu, and give it to me.  OK.

But I also ordered milk.  Why?  Because I already had a beer at the concert and I was about to drive home, plus who the fuck has beer with dessert?  So I'm at the bar having a tiramisu and milk, like a child, like someone who should not be at the bar.  No, if I had my druthers I would not be eating that stuff there.  But really, I didn't give that much of a shit.  Besides, dessert was free, so who the fuck cares?  It was good, by the way.  Hmmm, tiramisu with milk. ...

Apparently this drunk bitch a few seats away from me did.  As soon as I drank from this small plastic bottle of Kemp's 2% (and thank goodness they had that instead of icky skim; Mother asked me to finish off their gallon of skim while they were gone and it still tastes to me like water) she was looking at me.  And she was staring, or at least gazing at me longer than one would when trying to look at something without getting caught by the one being gazed upon.  I caught her several times looking at me and then smiling, and then laughing.  And then she said something to the man she was with, and then that asshole looked at me longer than normal.  So it went for the half-hour I was there just minding my own business eating my milk and tiramisu.  That bitch would not stop looking at me, and I know she was making fun of me for drinking milk to her date.  What is this, school all over again?

I will say this: She was hot.  And I will allow that the reason she was looking at me so longingly could be because she's drunk, in which case none of the shit coming out of her mouth would be anything to get too offended over.  Nevertheless, for the record: Bitch, I'm just eating.  Mind your own fucking business.