Flat panel TVAs I mentioned in one of earlier posts, I don’t really frequent sports bars, or bars in general very often, but my previous visit to a neighborhood watering hole was interesting and encouraging enough to drop by again.

Just like last time, I was greeted by a hostess, who couldn’t be older that 16 and having been seated at a nice, relatively quiet booth, looked around, trying to spot Jenny, the cute waitress, who sometime in December seemed to be kind of interested in striking up at least a conversation.

Didn’t have to wait very long, as Jenny, with strikingly short hair this time, appeared with a big stein of Sam Adams. “I did tell you that the next one was on the house, didn’t I”, she said with a big smile. “Hey! I like your hairdo” I said, being kind of partial to shapely, athletic chicks, with short hairstyles. “You like it? I actually had it cut just before Christmas, thinking that maybe you would come by” she smiled. “But, how did you know that I liked short-haired chicks?” I retorted. ” I guessed, honey” She seemed happy about the compliment, about having guessed correctly and I was hoping, about me actually being there too.

“So, what would you like to eat with that beer? Another Angus steak and mushroom burger, like last time?” Wow! She not only remembered the kind of beer I had two months ago, but also what I had to eat! This was turning into an interesting evening. “Sure, that will be fine. Make it well-done please” I said. “OK honey, let me place the order and I will be right back” said Jenny.

In the meantime, I looked around the bar. Not too crowded. A few guys watching some basketball game and one couple, sitting at the bar, in plain view of everybody, really getting into it. The guy’s hands were stroking the butt of his rather chunky date, who didn’t seem to mind it one bit. Personally, I think that they would be a heck of a lot more comfortable in one of the green-upholstered booths, like the one I was sitting in, but who cares? There’s no accounting for taste I guess. I for one would not be in the least interested in stroking the fat lady’s butt for everyone to see.

“Are you watching those two?” asked Jenny. I nodded. “They come here quite a bit and they grope each other all the time, even before they start drinking,” she added.” Just now I noticed that she was holding a glass of beer in her hand. “May I join you?” she asked. “Be my guest”. I was really glad now that I decided to drop by. Jenny sat down with a sigh. “Ooff! Nice to sit down. I’ve been on my feet for hours and hours. By the way, do you mind if I smoke?” she asked. “Not at all” I said. “Lately, I have been rolling my own, just like in college. Tastes better, no added chemicals and it is cheaper too. Want me to make you one?” “Sure” I’d love to try,” she said. I took the tobacco pouch, the little packet of rolling papers and the plastic rolling machine, along with my well-worn brass Zippo lighter, unrolled the pouch and put the rolling machine inside its leather and rubber-lined interior, in order not to spill the tobacco all over the table. ‘What kind of tobacco did you say this was?” asked Jenny. “This is Drum, a Dutch blend. You can get about the same amount of smoking out of a 13-dollar can as from a 40-dollar carton of regular cigarettes,” I explained. Jenny nodded, watching me put a couple of pinches of tobacco in between the rollers. “It even smells nicer,” she said. “Wait ‘till we light up” I added. “It smells almost like a good pipe tobacco”. I distributed the tobacco evenly between the rollers, closed the machine, inserted a gummed cigarette paper in the slot, rolled the machine’s rollers a couple of turns and asked, “Do you want me to lick it, or would you rather do it?” “You go ahead, I’m not afraid of your licking,” said Jenny with a mischievous smirk ” I smiled too and licked the entire length of the paper, rolled it all the way inside the machine’s rollers, opened them and out popped a perfectly formed, non-filter cigarette. I offered it to Jenny, who examined it closely, picked the end with fewer tobacco strands exposed and put it in her mouth. Now she looked almost French, with a short and fairly fat cigarette dangling out the side of her nicely shaped mouth. I flicked the Zippo. She sucked hard, puffed a couple of times and declared:” This really tastes very nice!” “I think so too,” I said, quickly working Barack Obamaon my own joint and soon after lighting it with the trusty Zippo. “Did you hear that Barack Obama also smoked?” I asked. “Really? I haven’t heard,” she admitted. “Apparently, his wife Michelle made him promise that he would quit, if he decided to run for president”. ” And did he?” asked Jenny. ” I hear that he did, but that he still carries nicotine gum”, I explained, all based on an item that I have seen in Parade Magazine just days before. “That sort of makes me like him even more”, said Jenny. ” Like he is a regular guy, more human than the rest of them. I cannot picture Hillary, McCain, or Romney smoking. Can you?” “Not really” I admitted. “Frankly, for some reason I suspected that Obama was a smoker, but found out about it just the other day”.

“Oh crap! I forgot about you hamburger,” exclaimed Jenny, getting up from the table. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’d much rather sit here with my smoke and beer, talking to you, than wolf down a burger”. ” I have an idea,” she said. “I’ll bring you the burger and then you can take me home. My car is in the shop and I am getting off in about half an hour”. This must be my day, I told myself. “Absolutely! I’d love to show you all the political stickers on my back window”.

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