Last night was a happy hour party for Impulse, a new publication from the C-P that launched back in June. So a bunch of us from work decided to go. If I had a Kim 3.0 Scrapbook** I’d put this down as my first time in a club/bar environment as a separated lady.
It was a lot of fun, and I hung with Sharon all night. We met a nice guy there and he told Sharon that he first thought I was about 18 years old.
I’ll let that soak in a minute. You’ve seen the pictures. I will be the first to admit I don’t look 34. I usually get pegged around 27-28, depending on what I wear and what the condition of my 29 pounds of hair. But 18? Whatever.
We all chatted for quite a while, he bought Sharon and me a beer, and before the night was out, he asked me if I wanted to go anywhere afterward. I politely declined, which sent me into a guilt tailspin. But I’m not really looking to hookup with a guy in a bar now.
But he thought I looked 18! Still boggles the mind.
But I fully plan on catching up with that this weekend, as I still have to chatter on about big-girl yoga (Loved it!), Dancing with the Stars (O Drew, I miss you!), Survivor: Race Bait Island (go team Whitey!), and House (Hugh Laurie, where have you been all my life?).
**Another entry in my Kim 3.0 scrapbook would be “First Bill I forgot to pay.” That dubious honor goes to Cingular for my cellphone bill. All caught up now…but D’oh!