Pixies, Presidents, and Polite Passing

I was here last night hanging out. As I walked, I saw a couple thiccer Latinas on stage walking in very slow circles around the pole. I grabbed a seat at the outer bar and ordered my $7 water from the bartender (more on her later).

A few minutes in, a pixie haired blonde came over and introduced herself (appropriately) as Pixie. She seemed nice and gave me a good feeling, so we headed to the VIP. My philosophy is not to waste time on regular dances. If someone strikes my fancy, I'm just going to trust my intuition and go for broke. Moments later, we were in one of the corner booths starting our 30 minute journey together. Words were said, dead presidents were invoked, and boundaries became a little bit more blurry. At the end of the 30 minutes, I introduced my new friend Pixie to my old friend Mr. Franklin, and they left together as I headed back to the bar.

I really have to hand it to these old Presidents (I know Ben was never President, but shut up, this is my story) - with how persuasive they are, it's no wonder they were elected to hold the highest office.