A rather attractive woman goes up to the bar in a quiet rural pub. She gestures alluringly to the barman, who comes over immediately.
When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face close to hers. When he does so, she begins to gently caress his beard, which is full and bushy.
"Are you the landlord?" she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.
"Actually, no," he replies.
"Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him," she asks, running her hands up beyond his beard and into his hair.
"I'm afraid I can't," breathes the barman, clearly aroused. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes, there is. I need you to give him a message," she continues huskily, popping a couple of fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently. "Tell him that there is no toilet paper in the ladies' room."
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So I guess this is where I tell you what I learned - my conclusion, right? Well, my conclusion is: Hate is baggage. Life's too short to be pissed off all the time. It's just not worth it.
When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face close to hers. When he does so, she begins to gently caress his beard, which is full and bushy.
"Are you the landlord?" she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.
"Actually, no," he replies.
"Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him," she asks, running her hands up beyond his beard and into his hair.
"I'm afraid I can't," breathes the barman, clearly aroused. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes, there is. I need you to give him a message," she continues huskily, popping a couple of fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently. "Tell him that there is no toilet paper in the ladies' room."
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So I guess this is where I tell you what I learned - my conclusion, right? Well, my conclusion is: Hate is baggage. Life's too short to be pissed off all the time. It's just not worth it.
