I'm headed to Vegas!

Ok. I'm not really. I've been known to, well, exaggerate. It's one of my adorable traits, don't you think?

Ok, I'm super busy today at work, but I just needed to tell you the latest Paulo story. He doesn't work tomorrow or Friday, so you probably won't hear about him again until after we work together again Saturday.

Ok, in short: I'm a dumb girl. I made him dinner. With cookies. And milk. And some guy and his kid ate half of it, reaching across my counter and taking the pieces that were OBVIOUSLY not sample portions. But hey, that's a risk at my job I guess. We had a good laugh about it.

He told me that by the sheer (shear?) fact that I cooked for him, he is indeed in love with me and proposed marriage. We're probably headed to Vegas on Saturday before our closing shift that night.

He and I were the last ones in the store (the full timers have to have someone verify that they locked the door, etc.). After he chivilrously saved me from some leaning towers of wine, we closed down the store. He ended the night with a "You and me. Two for two. A strong team if I've ever known one." Then he went in for the kill:































An awesome high five. It was glorious. Oh, and he has a cat named "Bubbas." Not Bubba. BubbaS. And apparently the cat sleeps on his head--and tore a small hole in his ear Monday night while Paulo was sleeping. He says he remembers waking up and being pissed about something...but falling back asleep. "If I didn't love him so much, I'd throw him across the room."

I say: the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Bep, however, reminded me this morning: I have heard that the fastest way to a man's heart is through his chest, but you may want to save that for emergencies. Thanks Bep. Thanks.