I went to Gumbo’s for lunch today. This is currrently on of my favorite restaurants. And the food was excellent as always. But what was interesting was the conversation that I overheard which sounded like it was straight out of a letter to Penthouse (which I only read for the articles, of course).

To my right was a table of four young males. One of them was telling a story and he was obviously bragging. Which went something like this:

He travelled to some town (which I did not catch the name of — I was not really paying attention at this point). Apparently, it was a Wednesday night and the night life was rather dull. But he goes to a bar and checks it out. After circling the place he goes and orders a beer. Not two minutes later, but this woman walks up to him and asks him if he wants to go somewhere else. He is interested, so he goes with her and leaves the beer. He doesn’t go into much detail what happened that night. But apparently, they start seeing more of each other and somehow the Mother enters the picture. Mercifully, he does not go into detail about the Mom.

The next surprising thing that I hear is that she is about to have cosmetic surgery performed on her. His audience now jokes about if something is added or removed. It seems that she is having her breasts enlarged. So he remarks that he gets to see the before and the after. He also mentions that he is going to rub cocoa over her scars. (I imagine that they are non-existent now adays. They can go through the belly button after all!)

All throughout the story, he kept stressing how special he was. How unique he was. Blah, blah, blah. One example was when he mentioned that the next time he goes to this bar, other men would be lined up to see the new look. They would remember him and wonder why he was picked when they were there far longer than he was.

Good thing I was facing away from them. I would not have kept a straight face at all…