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| - This was the conversation taking place at the booth behind me when I sat down to eat a 16 oz strip steak after 9 straight hours of trying to pimp out my .org at a recent conference in Las Vegas:
Him: (various mentions of how he and his brother don't get along)
Her: (various mentions of how she and her sister don't get along that correlate in no way whatsoever to her dinner companion's sibling issues)
Him: (not at all interesting story of how he met his wife on spring break when he wasn't even looking for a relationship or anything but they slept together on their first night in Cabo or whatever and it turned out they went to the same college and things just sort of happened)
Her: (various interjections and affected giggles during aforementioned premarital anecdote)
Him: I'm going to hit the head.
Her: (giggle) Okay.
(30 seconds later)
Her apparent colleague: So?
Her: He's having fun fucking around with me.
Her apparent colleague: Well, you know how they are. Ooh, he's coming back! Good luck.
Him and Her: (various idiotic comments leading to...)
Him: I mean, for me, it's like, sex? and love? Totally different things. Apples and oranges. I can totally separate them.
Her: Oh, me too. It's like, the difference between the physical and the emotional, right?
At this point, I left, having been privy to exactly the type of conversation I figured I'd be privy to in such an establishment.
I just hope they used protection. It would suck for HIS WIFE to get an STD because her HUSBAND couldn't keep it in his pants due to the WAITRESS at the NASCAR CAFE being too aesthetically and intellectually alluring.
My steak was gristly but the potatoes hit the spot. Salad is iceberg and drowned in dressing. Service was fast, but I was alone and it was 9ish on a Friday night. Interpret that as you will.
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