Please Stop.

Please stop looking at me, woman seated on the other side of the bar. Yes, you are worth looking at. But can't you see I'm here with someone? Can't you tell I have conflicting reports from my memory as to whether or not I know you? You don't look familiar ... but maybe you do. Time casts a long shadow, and my memory wears a shaggy beard tangled with alcoholic fuzzery.

It doesn't matter: I'm here with someone, and you're with someone else. That the chap you're with is clearly a douchebag isn't my problem. The woman I'm with is uncomfortable and you staring at me like I just won the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay - that's making her that way! Cuz, as we all know, I wouldn't adapt anyone *else's* hack script! (Popeye laugh) ug ug ug ug!

Anyway, quit looking at me, it's creeping everyone out.