<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/7697/f55qjnf6qr2h0cf6g.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>As not a member of PETA, my responsibilities toward Robbie come to an end with scowls and an explanation that no bird has been painted in support of a pub or sports team.<br/><br/>It seems that the bar is a focus for parties, birthdays, Jaclyn’s even.  Who knew?  (I may not push on what some would call meddling over whether to convert the restaurant—maybe later).<br/><br/>While my concerns over Robbie subside, my concern about indentured waitressing rise.  This is due to one Courtney.  I think about how the first meet was with her as a waitress, me as a waitress off-duty, having dinner with someone else.  That was some time ago, but one never knows when one gets lassoed, pressed into indenturehood.<br/><br/>Now,<em>need a drink?</em>That really means what?  “Drink would be nice.”  I touch my waitress’s neck with my forefinger, “to go along with something to nibble on.”  For the drink, if she brings anything close to a ‘Sex on the Beach’ cocktail, she’s in for . . . okay, I’ll have to decide if she’s more punished with punishment or no punishment.  (Complicated).<br/>