Once upon this past Saturday night, Marc and I went out with Little Miss Sassy and her hubby Brinnon.

When we met up with the beautiful people, (did I tell you we call them “the beautiful people? Because we do. And they are.) we found them in great spirits. They had spent most of their day sweating their butts off staining the outside of their house. So 10 minutes into the night, I made a mental note: in the future we must force any couple we go out with to spend the entire day sniffing stain fumes in 90-something degree weather. Because apparently? People find us MUCH more entertaining than we really are when they are high and slightly dehydrated.

After gorging ourselves at a japanese steak place, we went to Westport Plaza.

A local band was playing. But they, my friends, were only a quarter of the night’s entertainment. The bar we went to is one whose patrons range in age. Sure you’ll find the 20- somethings there but you’ll also find plenty of people in their 40’s too. The people-watching is ideal as you can find “fugly bachelorette begging men to suck lifesavers off of her shirt for money”, “balding, paunchy man sucking down beer while longingly watching young hoochies”, “band groupie who ignores her date in hopes of landing the lead singer” or “horny guy panting over every overtly tanned young lass sporting silicone in the joint.” But this is St. Louis so there’s still a fair amount of “normal people out just to have a good time and laugh at all of the tired and trendy angling for a piece of ass.”

We found a great table. And it didn’t take long to find “the main attraction” for our night.

We’ll call her “Vixy”. Dressed in her pressed khaki pants with sensible sandals and her mango-colored sweater, she stood out from the rest of the rough-looking crowd she was hanging with.

Vixy was full of surprises. As the night wore on, she spiced up her “show”. After downing a few drinks and dancing to a few songs alone, she slithered up to one of the bodyguards by the stage. She grabbed his lower thigh and felt her way up his leg within an inch or two of his crotch. He laughed. She stayed next to him for a bit. But once she realized he was trying to ignore her, she staked out a new spot — near the band but in the middle of the path to the restrooms.

Her M/O was simple. When a guy walked by she would either grab his butt or try to dance with him. If the guy gave her a strange look, she’d flip him the bird or scream “LOSER” at him. By the time we were ready to leave, she had gotten even more aggressive — pawing men’s crotches on their trips to fro. As we left, she started pawing on not only an unsuspecting guy but his date too.

We laughed. Alot. At one point, she saw my hubby laughing and he flipped him off. I wonder if her middle finger was sore the next day? It sure got quite a workout that night.

Her friends tried to ignore her. Every now and again if Marc or Brinnon had to use the restroom, we’d all eagerly watch and wonder — will she grab or won’t she? She never made a move on either of them. And frankly, Linlee and I were a mite disappointed.

Throughout the whole ordeal I cursed the fact that I left my camera phone at home.

I’m thinking that girl ended up, at best, with technicolor yawn all over her shoes by the end of that night. At worst, she’s got a few less friends to party with. And they probably told her that this Sunday when she was in the midst of a hangover from hell.

Hopefully Vixy found what she was looking for. Hopefully what she got didn’t include a side of crabs or some other STD.

While the St. Louis bar scene can be fun, Marc and I always agree. Come for the booze. Stay for the “cheese”.