Mother Hen
I have a buddy at my day job who's wife is expecting a child. He didn't come in today unexpectedly. I tried to call him on his mobile and left a message. No one had herd from him. I assume the worst and track someone down who has his home number. He is fine of course. I'm just a worry-wart.

The Real Player
I met one of those people last night. A buddy of a buddy of mine is a real player. He is kind of dorky looking, but he can get just about any receptive woman he wants. I did not catch him in action, but his fiancé is a Playboy Bunny (model (whatever)). I left the party early, but I'm told he was able to get a woman to come over and bring her friends. That sort of stuff isn't proof really, but it is better than I've ever done. So, what is that thing? Is it confidence? Is it pheromones? I'm the last person to know. It is on the list of useless information you will be told after you dye.

Johnny Walker Black
I went to a Whiskey tasting last night. We learned all about Chivas Regal. One of the "flavors" I liked was Johnny Walker Black. It had smoke-earthy twang. This Scottish guy in a kilt cracked jokes and educated us on the details of Scotch Whiskey. He showed us how to mix whiskey and derive a blend of our own.
This was the Hotel opening I wrote about earlier. I was pleased with the cloths I picked out. My buddies said I looked quite Business Casual.

Love?
We sit on a friend's deck, warm muggy night,I holding her tight to my chest. We both face the moon, leaning against a pillar. I draw in close, whisper my warm breath across her ear and say "Dream with me. Look to the clouds aside the moon and we are there, in heaven, together, forever, dreaming of the moment we spent on a friends deck."