The Real Provo Girl Pilsner

Chup and I took a late night table at Squatters (try the fish and chips) last night. Upon arriving we approached the host table and were greeted.
"We need a table for two, please." I wink.
"Okay. It'll be about forty minutes." Says the dressed-in-all-black host with a wink back.
"Forty minutes!" I exclaim.
"Well, we have a big party in the back tonight which is taking a lot of our tables." He explains.
"But forty minutes!" I intensely smile.
"Well," he inches closer to me and slightly whispers,"I am saying forty minutes but it's really more like twenty." He winks again.
I inch closer and whisper back, "Did you mean fifteen?"
"No," He shrugs and looks around, "I meant . . . seventeen."
"Well," I say, backing up, looking at Chup, "I guess that means we have time to get to know each other better."
"Oh!" says the host, "Is this a MySpace meet up?" He claps his hands.
"MySpace?" Chup says with his booming voice, giving me the look-over,
"You could call it that."

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