Suave. Debonair. Smooth.
Years ago, when I was in my early twenties, I was in a bar, drunk as a skunk, and I decided to hit on this stewardess:
H: Hi! My name is H, and I'm really drunk! It's my birthday! Do you want to join us?
Stewardess: ... Umm ...
H: Hey! I have a suit just like that one! Only it doesn't have a skirt ...
Well, tonight J took a page from me on how to flirt with women. We were eating dinner at a Boston Pizza, and J was doing his thing and flirting with the little blonde waitress.
She came over.
J smiled at her.
She admired his smile.
J dipped a french fry in ketchup.
She admired his skill.
And then ...
J missed his mouth entirely, and stuffed his french fry up his nose.
So the difference between me and my son is that for him, this kind of thing actually works. 'Cause not only did she continue to talk to him, but she actually gave him two cookies when we were leaving.
Smooth, J. Very smooth.
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