Grace the Psychic Lady [El Paso> & Bubba, and their Aries friends, plus a Cancer daughter and who knows whom else, all headed over to the Pastry Chef [West Side> for breakfast. That’s the last time I was coherent, Sunday morning. See: Grace insisted that I stay with her and Bubba since two of her daughters were absent for the weekend. Their big funny was arranging a bed with Barbie dolls in it just for “Kramer.”
In the parking lot of the Pastry Chef, Bubba was smooching with Grace, “Bubba, I ain’t going to hug you,” he said to me.
Getting to the plane from the event, and herding my Pisces friend along, plus getting her and her baggage to the airport and hustling her towards the gate – it was like herding cats.
Her significant other met us at the baggage claim in Austin, “I’m not going to hug you Bubba.”
Twice in one day, gentlemen with a nickname of “Bubba” told me I wasn’t going to get hugged [while I watches as they swapped spit with their wives>, what the the odds of hearing that in one day?
