I had a lovely "lunch" this evening with DJ Volvo who dropped by my place of employment. We strolled on over to the Irish joint, and sat outside near their roaring fire (purely set dressing for ambiance and romance as it was quite pleasant this evening).
I had enticed her to dine with me with the offer to exchange halibut and chips for tales of the Madonna concert that she had driven to Chicago the previous day to see. From all accounts, it was quite the extravaganza and I was, I'll admit, a wee bit jealous, never having seen Madonna. Ever.
Beauregard Van Horne could not contain himself from smirking at me the rest of evening...
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