
One night after attending a local advertising awards show, my husband wanted to grab something to eat. It was after 11 p.m., I was drunk, and I had eaten hors d'oeuvres at the event. We went anyway—me with a puss on my face, sitting in one of those way too loud, trendy restaurant/bars, him eating a meal while purposely ignoring my attitude.
Toward the end of his meal, with the place nearly empty, in walked NBA basketball star Chris Webber with a few hoops-playing friends. My mood immediately perked up. "You gotta introduce me," was the only thing I
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