06-29-05 - 5:09 p.m.
at the ripe old age of 56, the himbo is being coached in the ancient art of dating by his fellow bike assembler, craig. on the pretense of shopping for a new watch battery, carey came in on his day off and wandered back to receiving. after sneaking up behind me to poke my ribs and laughing hysterically about it, we had this stimulating conversation.
him: what are you doing tonight?
me: not sure. why?
him: i thought we could go to the bowling alley.
me: (lighting up with hope) you want to go bowling?!
him: well, no, there's a league, and craig and his wife are on it, and i thought we could watch.
me: (jesus, what's next? a viewing at the mortuary???) i'm sorry, i have plans. (yeah, like matching socks, washing my hair, cleaning the grout, watching another spellbinding episode of dancing with the stars...)
him: (shocked) but it's not your weekend!!!
carey once told me, in a moment of beer induced intimacy, that he only asks a woman out once. if she turns him down, that's it.
cross your fingers.