The Nubbin - A Hipster Toll Bridge Story - Chapter One

Hello Pop-O-Matic Gang!

Kitty here, from My Husband Hates Veggies. I am happy to report that the ladies of 7th Avenue (Kiki & Mame, Jeff & Seth's cats) are alive and well, and eating enough for three (Mame being an attractively Rubenesque feline).

I apologize for neglecting you for the past few days, and have decided to share a little story with you all that happened a few weeks back.

My husband and I were at a local live music/bocce ball court/watering hole, to see a band that my husband has been working with. We had a gaggle of buddies with us, we were jamming to the tunes, and having a "2 beer buzz" good time. I made my way to the unisex restroom, ala Ally McBeal, and on my way out, was stopped dead in my tracks, toll bridge style, by the leg of a sitting fella who was dressed like he was in the White Stripes - but if the White Stripes wore all black and white instead of red. He was surrounded on either side by hipsters and ladies who appeared to be struggling fashion models. He wore Capezios. A "conversation" followed:

Kitty (smiling): Do I know you?
Hipster: (smirking): {unintelligible mumblings}

I gave a small chuckle, smiled politely at what I thought was a lame flirtation attempt, and made my way once again to rejoin my crew. Once again: Hipster Toll Bridge! Confused, annoyed, and over it now, I look to his friends and say:

Kitty: I don't know this guy. Do you know this guy? Can you tell him to cut the shit?

This is when the climax (no pun intended) of our story occurs. For at this moment, Hipster points his Capezio toe, and nuzzles it squarely into my crotch, and begins twisting his toe, presumably aiming for my magic button.

Kitty (backing off his foot in horror, but also trying not to spill a beer): What the fuck are you doing? Who the fuck are you?
Hipster (with utter smarminess): I am giving you a nubbin. What's the matter? Don't you like the nubbin?

I know, I know, I should've thrown my drink at him. Instead, I disgustedly went to push past him again, at which point, I kid you not, he attempted to erect the Hipster Toll Bridge once more. This caught the attention of Struggling Fashion Model #1, who turned around to survey the situation. I locked eyes with her, my fellow sister, to hopefully intervene in this dilemna that her friend was causing. She slowly looked me up and down from head to toe and back again, and then, after deciding that I was the most boring creature she had even laid eyes upon, uttered a long weary sigh, and turned back to her other friend. All this hapenned at about the same moment that a pointed Capezio made it's way back to my crotch. Luckily, my crotch dodged his shoe, which I believe was running late for the Chorus Line open call down the street. I pushed at his leg (without spilling my beer!), and high on adrenaline, made my way back to my husband and friends, who were all very angry, albeit confused, by my tale.

Continued tomorrow...