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June 22, 2010 --- 9:24 AM

There's a shabby nobility to being broke. Falling back on manners and a private primary school education and I could usually get through at least the appetizers before a dinner date would sniff out my poverty. I really didn't worry about it too much. I dutifully counted my pennies and generally slept like a pussy pink baby with a bottle of top shelf formula in my hand. It got to be a tad frustrating when getting groceries or smokes at the store and brother, I like the really good cigarettes.

So for a lark, strictly for fun, mind you, I switched my schedule around at work. I waited on tables during the day and bartended a little at night. Scuttled the walk-ins to table with a toothy grin, the usual chit-chat. It turned out I was a half-way decent drink slinger and most folks had the decency to return that smile every now and again. Things were lookin' up for trusty ole Feistyboy, yes they were. And Little Timmy might just be able to afford that operation by Christmas.

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