My dining companion had this on Sunday right before I mooned Brookside. (Photo by Stephen Pingry/Tulsa World)
And this is the prison cell I may be put in, should my arrest be made.
It's possible I may be on the run from the law. Well, more like a fast walk with occasional stops for water, but whatever.
Sizable portions of this past weekend ucked-say actus-cay, if you'll please pardon my Pig Latin. However, a few bright notes there were -- one of them being a nap I took during "Empire Strikes Back," which explains why I've been talking a little like Yoda the past 48 hours.
Anyhoo, another fun outing was to R Bar & Grill on Brookside. I enlisted Bro. GoGo's help with a domestic issue, but I suggested we have lunch first at R. For whatever reason, I thought it appropriate to not change out of the white gym shorts and red T-shirt I was wearing while cleaning house. I just put on some flips flops, slapped on my shades, and out the door went I.
We grabbed the last table outside, while a crowd of a dozen-plus folks cheered on the Thunder while they trounced Chicago. GoGo ordered the chicken and waffles, I had the chicken cordon bleu sandwich -- both very, very good.
Having sated ourselves, we paid and left our table, me leading the way off the patio to my car around the corner. I walked -- sucking my stomach in the entire time -- in front of the rowdy Thunder fans and about 30-something other people on the way to my car, but not before tripping over a rock or air or whatever in the parking lot. I started laughing and talking to GoGo, who was right behind me -- or so I thought. Turns out it was some stranger, who then muttered, "I'm gonna go home and (blank) myself." I don't know what the "(blank)" was, but he seemed happy about it, so I didn't feel obligated to call authorities.
I opened the car and, right before falling into it, I looked down and saw that my gym shorts were down around my mid-thigh -- stomach slightly pooched out under my T-shirt, underwear completely showing. Sweet Lord ... What was that, a half-moon? A full one would suggest bare flesh, I assume. Perhaps new moon.
Whatever, when you're wearing gym shorts, you shouldn't keep your wallet in there long, especially when it has receipts dating back to Valentine's Day. Good grief, I just had another hot flash of embarrassment flush my face.
Seriously, that's worse than walking around with your fly open and part of your shirttail hanging out, of which I'm sad to say I have experience.
So who else has mooned Brookside by accident? Let's a laugh share so I'll like a perv feel less. Or however Yoda would say it.
Peace, love and new moons ... XOXO
