I take 10s and 20s.

As of 11:30 last night, I sold my last piece of (physical) baggage (from my cheating trashy bastard ex) on Ebay for $75. And I’m pretty effing pumped about it. It was a sterling silver ring that my ex got me for Christmas last year—the first real Christmas I’ve had with a boyfriend, and the first piece of jewelry I’ve gotten from a man (other than my dad). The ring meant a lot to me, but I haven’t worn it since we broke up. And I really didn’t want to be reminded of how horrible he really treated me. It was worth about $130, but since I didn’t pay for it, anything I got would be icing on the cake. With the cash, I’m definitely treating myself to something awesomely hott.

I’m thinking boots.

Anyway, so I was out and about Saturday night with a few of my girlfriends. We were all sitting at the bar, hitting on the various hot bartenders that were out that night. This guy comes up in between me and my friend Leslie to introduce himself. Understandably, I don’t remember his name. Anyway, he was doing the usual talk about what do I do for a living, etc. I told him I was an editor, which everyone thinks is glamorous or something and it’s totally not, so I asked him what he did.

“Well,” he said. “I’m a waiter at Kona Grill.”

Me: “Oh ok, that’s a yummy place.”

“Yeah, it is. What do you like to get there.”

Me: “Umm, I’d have to go with the macadamia encrusted chicken and smashed taters.”

Now, I wouldn’t have had this conversation had I been sober. Call me stuck up 😉 , but it isn’t often I discuss baked chicken with men I just met. After the macadamia chicken, it was obvious this conversation was going downhill. Luckily, Mr. Kona took his signal to bow out gracefully.

“Well, let me just give you my…”

This part of our conversation seemed to move in slow motion, because it was probably the most glorious thing ever. While he is reaching into his wallet, I’m praising the heavens because I don’t have to give this guy my number, he is obviously going to give me his card, and I will toss it. End of story. So he reaches in, grabs a card, and hands it to me.

“Thanks, nice to meet you…” I say.

He walks away and I look down at the card, which was plastic.

$10 Gift Card to Kona Grill

FUCKING RIGHT DOGGIE.

How effing cool is that? I basically got paid in Kona dollars to talk to some dude for 5 minutes. Do I know his name? No. Will I recognize him when I go use my $10? Absolutely not. But I will enjoy my chicken…damn, I wish I got $10 for every guy who hit on me.

In other news, I found a new favorite comedian—Rachel Feinstein.

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