There was no way I was cooking after the Great Thumb Drama of '10...so Mr. Twinkle and I agreed to meet for a dinner of basketball watching and a recap of the eventful day. Well, on the way home from my parents' I was reaching in the back seat to retrieve a dropped sippy cup and my bra strap broke, so when we got back in town I took my bra off while driving down Cherokee Road and jerry-rigged it with a safety pin right there on Willow Avenue (ghetto, I know). At the stoplight at Eastern Parkway I threaded it into my sleeves, but I just couldn't get it fastened. I pulled into the alley behind the Boombozz Taproom to hike up my shirt and fasten the clasp, and just as I did, a jaunty fellow with dreadlocks popped out to sip his Coke in the refreshing spring air. We shared a moment of awkward eye contact and I quickly covered up, but I'm pretty sure he got the money shot.
Trying to laugh it off, I parked, went inside, and got a table. Yeah, Dredlocks was our waiter. I wanted to ask him exactly what he saw, but decided against it. For what it's worth, he couldn't have been more delightful. I'm going to take it as a compliment.
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