<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/7297/tzuhccaneoolbdb6g.jpg) <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><div align="center"><strong> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Steffy – CC</span></strong></div></div><br/>If I’ve got this figured right, Silk is going to toss a few darts and, she thinks, somehow subjugate me to . . . slave waitressing.  I know that Robbie is encouraging such thoughts with shouts of beer.  Another tyrannical onslaught and clearly, clearly bullying.<br/><br/>If I keep trying to develop such thoughts, I might be able to conjure up a<em>poor me</em>or even better<em>poor little me</em>.  I realize that the look will be lost on this unsympathetic group.  What we need is some jurors, unbiased—then I’d stand a chance.<br/><br/>With few options at distraction, I grab for one, saying to the girls who seem focused on the sporting game—“Have you heard about the latest injury?”  I shake my head at what I hope appears like ‘how are the sporting goddesses so unfair to long suffering fans?’  (Distract, distract, distract).<br/>