Panic @ Saphir

My sex anthropologism continues after a short sevrage.

Yesterday, Mr. Finances came over with a six pack of "U" and we had a chat in my living room. We weren't looking to party too hard, since we wanted to be présentable the following morning (which would be today, half a success), so we decided to head out to Saphir after a few beers.

St-Laurent St. was closed because of this damn Molson Indy crap, and there were assholes everywhere. We entered by the third floor, where the goth attack was in full effect, and decided we'd be better with Plastic Patrick's rock n' roll. The guy was doing a "two for one", so we had two songs by every band he played, in a row, which was sometimes quite amusing. The dancefloor was packed and there were a few girls I knew, sparsely spread around the place.

A tiny, black-haired rock chick, with a good enough rack for her stature, smiled at me. I could have married the girl.

But I started chatting with a cute brunette after bumping into her a few times. She apologized and I said :

-You can touch me all you want !

A few sentences later she was inviting me to share a cab to her place. She was really cute, so I told her we might as well take my car.