You Do What?

For some reason or another I didn't feel like changing into jeans or the signature shorts when I went to the bar last night. My normal wear is shorts and a t-shirt, year round. One girl who's been coming to the bar for the past three months now (and who everybody instantly loved, whatever) showed up late in the evening. Sure, I'd do her, but if I tried to brain fuck her I wouldn't get much.

Van: Why are you all dressed up?

Me: Just leftovers from work.

Van: You work?

????????

Seriously?

I guess I hide my "success" pretty well. It'd be the same after I win the Powerball.