Monday I went into my favorite club at 2:00 P.M. At 10:00, I was getting ready to leave, when a cute, petite, next door, Barbie girl sat down and started up a conversation. After some polite conversation (not pushy), she asked it I wanted to get a lap dance. I explained that I had been in the club since 2:00 and needed to leave. She then counted on her fingers and said "Wow, you have been in here for 7 hours".
Last night I was telling this story to chandlers namesake. She asked me the dancers name. I didn't remember (only that she was from Charleston SC. She asked if it was P---- something or other. I still could not remember. Then she described her to a tee. "Yes that was her". She said "I knew it, the minute you told me about counting with her fingers". This is sad...


I have to ask myself which is the worst position to find one's self in? Not knowing simple mathmatics, but being able to learn? Or suffering presenile dementia, an early stage of alzheimers?
Shadowcat, in case this is over your head, you got the shit end of the stick on this one pal.