*blue balls not included.
Moronic Bar-Boy #1 (after tipping me $5 on a 50-plus dollar tab): My friend really wants your number.
I grab his receipt, and act as if I’m writing my number down, but scribble #1 and walk away.
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This blog is about pursuit: a transplanted Clevelander (me) in a new city (that's you, Pittsburgh!), pursuing the role of a self-employed copywriter, becoming a roller derby badass and somehow merging all my to-do items into one ever-growing Bucket List.
And of MY boyfriend. His blue balls started this mess.
