Those words have been written many times before on my blog.  Procrastination usually leads to long nights of skim-reading and coffee while cramming for an exam.

I spent this weekend saying goodbye to one of my favorite developers, who is moving on to another company in a state that is more affordable to live in.  We had beers, bonding, and a bunch of shit-talking from me about how I am going to “kick yalls’ asses in pool!”  Luckily, no one I threatened ended up making it to the bowling alley where I ultimately failed at shooting multiple times.

I met some guys at the bar, which normally wouldn’t be much to blog about, but this encounter was slightly different than the normal obvious attempt to mate mildly masked as an intoxicated introduction.  I was waiting in line with a friend to order a beer, when an overly drunk mass of man asked my buddy if I were his girlfriend.  My friend tossed a glance at me as if to say, “I should probably tell him I am your significant other just to save you from the incoherent drivel you are about to hear from this lush.”  Next came 20 questions:  Where are you from?  What do you do?  How tall are you?  Then he asked one too many:  “How old are you?”  I am now officially offended by that question.

After I proved how incredibly witty and clever my portion of the conversation seemed to be when conversing with an inebriated man, I was not-so-casually dragged away by another friend who isn’t so keen on the idea of guys in bars chatting me up.  I cannot help myself though, and we ended up chatting a bit more over the next couple of hours.  It came down to the moment of truth, where this guy apparently “mustered up the courage” to ask for my digits.  “No, I am sorry.”  I smiled, “You cannot have my number.”  (Hello, my stalker still dials me to tell me ‘Have a good morning, sweetie’.)  He complained in an utterly unconvincing fashion that girls like me are ruining men’s self esteem because they take a chance by asking for a number, only to get turned down.  I have a hard time believing that this guy was even slightly fazed by the thought of rejection.  I bet he easily asks for and gets more numbers than most of my fellow dorks do.  Sorry, no pity buster.

But the beautiful catch was, his roommate was there – and knowing I was a gamer – asked for my WoW character’s name, since I wasn’t handing out other contact info.  So there we were – a level 70 Druid and 70 Mage, exchanging servers and avatar names in a bar over beer.  He sent me an in-game mail, and now we may just explore Azeroth together on some newbies.