Saturday Night.

In which our heroine goes to her office (also known as the Oaken Barrel) to catch the Butler game and, mostly, to write.

Man at the bar talks throughout the game.

Man at the bar talks after the game. It's a monologue. A nice one, but still.

And then there's this:

Him: “God, you women.”

Me: “Yes, aren't we awful?”

~*~

Aside from the lack of writing that happened, I feel pretty sure I'm Dorothy Parker now.

Writing at bars, this was bound to happen.

 

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