I can't stop thinking about that Asiago bagel I had the other day.
I lunched (<-- is that a word for real?) with a girlfriend Wednesday at Einstein's because, hi, if I'm in charge of picking a restaurant, I will surely pick one with the most carbs per square foot. And because I've been craving Asiago bagels since, like, birth or something.
I think I have a problem.
So I ordered my turkey sandwich, leaned in a bit to the guy and said as alluringly as possible, "On an Asiago bagel and make sure it's a really good one." And then I winked! WINKED!
He did pick out a good one for me. And it was delicious.
That, my friends, is what is called Having Game*.
*Heh, heh, heh. If you know me at all, then you know I most certainly do not have game. I have whatever is the opposite of game. I think it's called Ability to Make Everyone Uncomfortable by My Awkward Behavior and Social Ineptitude**.
**Wait, no! I mean--that's not--I don't . . . I AM AWESOME! SHUT UP!