week two - dare: sing a song
John and I had been talking about doing the second prompt together in the form of a karaoke night. I admit, perhaps, my intentions were not completely noble as I do hold more-than-friendly feelings for his person (sorry, Harvey, the heart is but a fickle hunter).
John landed in Gotham on Thursday this past week, and after our harmless bit of flirtation, I took him to a new establishment, a Mexican 'cantina' of sorts. I had never been there before and I admit it's not the kind of place I go to, but I don't know any of the patrons that frequent it nor do they know me, which suited my purposes. We both actually loved it. There were festive-dressed waitresses, who even donned long braids and bright dresses. One really drunk man tried peeking underneath one of the girl's skirts. John and I later learned her name was Juanita, a virgin promised to a family friend of theirs in Jalisco, Mexico and the groom's name was Ramiro. She was not happy with the man's boldness, and smacked him in return.
Drunk Guy did not try to make eye contact with Juanita for the remainder of the night.
We ordered a plate of hot nachos and non-alcoholic drinks, which John generously paid for as my birthday gift, and I asked one of the mariachi-dressed cooks for the Mexican sombrero. John didn't want to wear it (he can cuss like Jean-Paul I swear), but just as Harvey Dent has The Chin, Rachel Dawes has The Pout and he did, indeed, end up wearing the sombrero. I have been sworn not to show the picture, however, and because my heart belongs to John I cannot betray him in such a manner.
Because he is a fabulous support system, after having saved me from a leather-toting, spiked necklace-wearing biker man who wanted my number, he shoved me up on stage and ladies and gentleman, not only did I sing, I sang Sheryl Crow's If It Makes You Happy. Yes. Groan and snicker away. I got a standing ovation, so there, punks.
[locked to Flist]
See? Rachel Anne Dawes is not a chicken.
Rachel Dawes
Batman
Word Count: 334
John landed in Gotham on Thursday this past week, and after our harmless bit of flirtation, I took him to a new establishment, a Mexican 'cantina' of sorts. I had never been there before and I admit it's not the kind of place I go to, but I don't know any of the patrons that frequent it nor do they know me, which suited my purposes. We both actually loved it. There were festive-dressed waitresses, who even donned long braids and bright dresses. One really drunk man tried peeking underneath one of the girl's skirts. John and I later learned her name was Juanita, a virgin promised to a family friend of theirs in Jalisco, Mexico and the groom's name was Ramiro. She was not happy with the man's boldness, and smacked him in return.
Drunk Guy did not try to make eye contact with Juanita for the remainder of the night.
We ordered a plate of hot nachos and non-alcoholic drinks, which John generously paid for as my birthday gift, and I asked one of the mariachi-dressed cooks for the Mexican sombrero. John didn't want to wear it (he can cuss like Jean-Paul I swear), but just as Harvey Dent has The Chin, Rachel Dawes has The Pout and he did, indeed, end up wearing the sombrero. I have been sworn not to show the picture, however, and because my heart belongs to John I cannot betray him in such a manner.
Because he is a fabulous support system, after having saved me from a leather-toting, spiked necklace-wearing biker man who wanted my number, he shoved me up on stage and ladies and gentleman, not only did I sing, I sang Sheryl Crow's If It Makes You Happy. Yes. Groan and snicker away. I got a standing ovation, so there, punks.
[locked to Flist]
See? Rachel Anne Dawes is not a chicken.
Rachel Dawes
Batman
Word Count: 334