Close Encounters of the Brown Kind
Maybe I shouldn’t go with that title. It probably has some pretty poor connotations, and the joke isn’t very good. Yeah, I’ll change that later.
Sexy, sexy Scott Brown was in today for lunch. I think we embarassed him with our endless Cosmo jokes. The whole experience made me nostalgic for my old restaurant; I wish a Republican senator had come in there once, where I had a batshit insane co-worker who was convinced that everything that ever happened to him was a Republican plot. This includes, by the way, one time when I was enduring an evening of karaoke, and he was expounding to me at length how the reason he hadn’t been called to do his song yet was because the karaoke guy got a call from president Bush, and the president instructed him not to let this dude sing. He was totally on the level with this, too.
It also made me glad that Ted Kennedy never came in, since he’d have drunk all the beer and left without paying for it. And there’s a bridge not five hundred feet away. Recipe for trouble, mark my words.
