Friday, July 23, 2010

The Ultimate Dessert

October 5, 2008. The Packers just lost their third straight game – this time to the Falcons. I was searching for answers at Stadium View, unable to consume any cheese curds whatsoever.

It would’ve taken a crowbar pry me from the bar stool, but when the tube-topped vixen in the Packers hat dropped her keys, I sprinted over to give them to her. There was another guy competing to be her surprise hero, but he was no match for my cat-like quickness that day I tell you!

“Excuse me,” I said. She ignored me. This was the type of Babraham Lincoln that probably gets hit on a lot, so that kind of non-reaction was expected. I put on my cool Don Driver smirk and confidently a-nun-ci-ated, “You dropped your keys.” That got her attention.

“Oh my god, thank you so much! I am always losing those things.” she giggled. I couldn’t tell if there were real thoughts being processed behind those big brown eyes, but it didn’t matter. Damn she was hot. “It’s not a problem, really.” I said.

A blond beauty in jeans and a #12 shirt came up and sat on a stool by us, sizing me up. “Who’s this?” her friend asked. “I don’t know. I dropped my keys again and he picked them up for me.” She said.

“I am Robert of the clan Greenfield,” I said, drunkingly trying to be clever. They shot each other a look of “O-Kay...” The awkwardness was getting awkward. “I’m Robert,” I corrected myself. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi. I’m Jackie and this is Erica,” the friend said. “Erica is always losing her keys, so thanks a lot. What’s your drink of choice? We got it.”

Score! I couldn’t help but get ahead of myself and began to feel this day would turn out good after all. I imagined that I was the rich, cream-cheese frosted filling between two delicious warm chocolate-chip cookies. But not for long.

As the bartender was bringing back my Spotted Cow, Jackie whispered something into Erica’s ear. They giggled and then kissed. Jackie handed me the beer and said, “See ya later!” They exited the bar holding hands, on their way to a place only the Internet has seen.

And that’s the way the cookie crumbles…


  1. Your story is like a metaphor for the entire 2008 season. High hopes, but in the end just standing on the sidelines watching as all the great action passes by.

    It's moments like these that make me miss Wisconsin the most.

  2. It's possible that your Rudyard Kipling love interfered with your gay-dar. Every time I read the Jungle Book mine goes fuzzy for about two weeks.


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