I'm Pam Newman.
I am awesome every day & you are too.
Follow my butt on Twitter!
I'm a writer of aricles, poems & songs. Here's some cool stuff I wrote.
I order my usual. It’s a drink with vodka, fruit juices and ice. Something I named the DAB; for down ass bitches only.
Smirking at me, the bartender agrees to leave my tab open. Reminding myself not to leave my card here again, I fork over my debit card.
As I’m about to put my lips to the glass, a handsome fellow who looks a little too familiar enters the bar with the Saturday afternoon sunset on his heels.
I take a sip of my DAB. Its icier than I thought. Still, it’s plenty strong.
Everyone interested in fishing for tadpoles is halfway up Mister Familiar’s pole, but he’s not hungry for their bait.
My ice begins to melt.
Mister Familiar sits close but far away enough that he can’t see me scroll through my facebook friends list on my phone as I try to figure out who the hell he is.
He orders a Yuengling. “Not this far from the Liberty Bell,” I think to myself before the bartender denies him and I remember getting a Yuengling in Vegas once.
Frustrated, he orders a PBR. Equally frustrated, my memory isn’t being jogged by anything on my friends list.
Mister Familiar notices me noticing him and his words greet me like we had lunch on Thursday and he expects he’ll have breakfast with me on Sunday morning. I fake my best, “Oh, of course I know you,” hello and want to melt into the ether like the ice into my DAB.
His eyes smile at me making a gentle suggestion that anything is possible. I don’t know if it was the way I crossed my legs, the sudden disappearing act I performed with my DAB, or the nibble at my bottom lip, but it was something. Mister Familiar took something as a signal to grab that PBR and come closer to my seat.
I slipped my android into my skinny jeans and yeah, I do want another, right fucking now.
He’s talking about Yuengling to me, but I’m not paying attention. I let the conversation go on auto-pilot while I watch his face and mannerisims tell me who the hell Mister Familiar is. Obviously you’re from where I’m from, “Yeah I have had cheesesteaks from Jim’s on South Street. Pats and Genos ARE for tourists.”
This is getting more difficult. Why come to Louisville, Mr. Familiar of The Deleware Valley? The Derby isn’t for weeks, and you’re clearly not with anyone.
He congratulates me subtly on going to the GRAMMYs. Oh shit. You know exactly who I am, and I’m just now figuring out what reigon of the country you’re from.
I am drinking down this second Down Ass Bitch way too fast.
Auto-pilot turns off while Mister Familiar Hottie Maybe-Stalker orders a second PBR, and “One of whatever Pam’s drinking.”
Okay. Name drop.
Now is usually when I lay it all out on the table and admit the jig is up. But my ego pleads the fifth and I am two ahead of him vodka vs cheap beer, with no broken seal.
I come back to earth when he hands me my drink.
“I’ve really missed you,” Mister Foxy admits with a comforting softness to his tone.
“Me too,” my sagittarian moon says for me before my scorpio rising can devise a plan.
“You’ve been having a great year, and I thought it was about time,” he inhales. I am holding my breath.
I am on the edge of my seat awaiting the solution to Mr Fantastic’s identity mystery… or was it Mister Friendly?
I am Jack’s clinging anticipation.
Mister Finally speaks, “I think it’s about time that we got back together.”
Period. End of sentence. He looks at me like a prankster waiting for me to figure him out.
I exhale like a haughty southern belle and my angry aquarius sun beams down upon him with a quiet fury, “I never dated you.”
The drink he bought me hits my throat icy and cold. I give him a stare that matches, but his expression remains the same.
“Pam,” he says in a gentle, flirtatious tone, “I am your sense of personal ambition. I’ve been avoiding you for a while because you’ve been such a crazy self-distructive bitch.”
I look around at an empty bar. The sun has finished setting and the bartender is gone.
“Well, why are you a dude?”
Mr Freudian Extention turns into Miss Familiar and tells me that she is whoever I want him to be.
We talk for a while about destiny fufillment, goals, and general badassery.
After a while I ask her to become a him again. She obliges and I ask him if he’d likes purple cotton sheets and what he would like me to prepare for breakfast in the morning.
- carolinemartin likes this
- likeso likes this
- tickiotock said: That was very very good. :)
- tickiotock likes this
- saffronjunkie said: This is great!
- saffronjunkie likes this
- melanyouth reblogged this from awesome-everyday and added:
- jhnbrssndn likes this
- theskeptical likes this
- misskaffeine reblogged this from awesome-everyday and added:
- technojournee likes this
- awesome-everyday posted this