No such thing as bad publicity

Evidently I should start using fake names for everyone and everything I talk about to prevent lawsuits. The lovely restaurant my husband and I delight in has taken exception to the piece I wrote about them, believing that I was writing history, when actually I take a bit of poetic license with my stories now and again. The facts on that particular story are however very close to accurate, and although I did not see a blow landed, I do know there was a circle of men and at least one of them was on the ground. So maybe that was not a fight, like Vietnam was not a war, but there was definitely a lot of police action after the scuffle. I removed the name of the restaurant from my loo story, just in case they ever figure out who I am and decide to litigate. Now as far as the washroom is concerned, I will acknowledge that I was not an eyewitness to events behind closed doors, but my hearing is quite good. I am willing to concede that it could have been some sort of religious ritual to placate the sober upright church going patrons of the establishment. Now unless you happen to be one of those, tell me honestly, wouldn’t the things I said about the unnamed restaurant make you want to get your dancing slippers on and head out there on a Saturday night? I thought so. Even though I’m not naming names, it’s still the best place to eat we have found, with the best prices and ambiance, and I recommend it to all my friends. BTW, my story did not come up on the first 20 pages of google even before I removed the restaurant name.

To my friend and fellow writer to whom I seem to have given this blog address, I swear I will not reveal your name although I doubt that I’m protecting the innocent. Although I would have not punctuated the statement you made quite the way you did, yes, I am a flirt. I spent many dreary years so beaten back by circumstance that I never lifted my eyes from the narrow rut I thought was my lot in life. The blog name says it all. A year and a half ago, when my father died, I awoke to the realization that my life was not going to get any better for me unless I made some changes. I shifted my priorities so that my own needs and wants were not at the bottom of the list. I started making demands of others around me, especially my family. The universe shifted and I found myself again. I may be trying a little too hard to make up for those lost years right now, but I am having fun. My husband is happy to have the girl he married back and he is determined not to screw up and lose her again. I’m not going to let that happen either, and no matter how much I flirt, I dance with the one that brought me and we both know who’s taking me home at the end of the evening.