As you may or may not know by now, there was a blogger meeting this weekend. Gwen and Whiskeymarie? Well, sure. There’s that one. I’m sure it was filled with much drunken debauchery. And hung over debauchery. And then re-drunken debauchery. From previous discussions, I know how much Gwen was looking forward to this.
But this is not their story. They will have to tell their own story. I wasn’t there, and the spycam I placed at Gwen’s house is out of order.
No, I’m talking about my meeting the beautiful blond blogger.
First name: Sassy
Last name: Britches
Last week, she’d mentioned that she was going to be in Chicago at the end of the week and for the weekend. And then she mentioned window shopping in Lincoln Square. Well, I live about 4 blocks from the square in Lincoln Square, so said I would try to find her. She thought that was a grand idea, and even sent me her phone number incase I was having no luck.
So, Saturday, after taking a series of naps to try to recover from working until 7 am, I set out around 11:00 in my search for Sassy Britches. I cut thru Welles Park on the way. It was a beautiful day, people were out playing ball, or sitting under a tree, enjoying the weather. I hit a couple of my favorite shops. All the timing, singing, “SAAAAASSSY, Sassy Britches, Queen of the wild frontier.” I kept looking and looking to see who was looking, but no bites. So, I went to the Huettenbar, for cold tall glass of encouragement in the form of a weiss beer. Sipped that, and then walked back up Lincoln.
“SAAAAAASSSY, Sassy Britches, Queen of the wild frontier.”
Well, I’d made it to the north end of the square and ate a light lunch at Trattoria Trullo. A glass of pinot grigio, some Prosciutto, melon, dates, fried calamari, bread and oil. Yum. But not Sassy. I walk back down the street, plop on a bench in the square, and make the call.
She was across the street!
I walked into the store and there were only a few people in there, a blond in the back, and a few people up near the front. The brunette in the front group kind of looked up when I entered, but she was chatting with the group. Confused, I looked around, and the blond in the back then cracked a smile: I’d been played, but finally met Sassy Britches. (I will be calling her by her first name, “Sassy” from here on out.)
We talked a bit in the store, and then went to the Chicago Brauhaus to chat. We talked (about you). We talked about ourselves. We watched a couple waltz around the dance floor to the live accordian player. She is sweet, cute, and when the topic of Cora came up, she pulled her self into a little twisty squirming ball of excitement. Her reaction was adorable. We talked for what seemed like a long time. Honestly I don’t know how long it was. She confessed that she was sitting in the park when I walked thru earlier. (I was emailing Sass, so was a little oblivious) I invited her back to check out my to see my condo. Deciding that I probably wasn’t going to axe murder her or try any “brown chicken / brown cow” on her, she agreed. Sadly, the joint was a wreck, put she was polite and acted not to notice.
Eventually, we had to call it a day. Took a picture, and said our good-byes.
I don’t know what I expected 145 posts ago when I started this blog, but let me tell you, the people I have met thru it are all top notch. And Sassy was absolutely no exception. Aces. And in a bit of unsolicited advice to someone who doesn’t read this blog, “Pokey, RING that THING!” If you let her get away, that you didn’t deserve her in the first place.
Oh and Zibbs, yeah, her britches had just the right amount of SASS in them.