spanked

Flattery was not found at yesterday's brunch.

A girlfriend invited us to the House of Blues for its legendary gospel brunch. Think spirituality at its finest...sprinkled with mimosas, biscuits and gravy, and bread pudding to die for.

I'm in line at the omelette station with Amara. I'm ordering the usual - scallions, tomatoes, mushrooms, and just a bit of ham. But Amara is obviously upset the chef is taking way too long to perfect the eggs. So I pick her up and latch her on to my right hip. I start to sway from side to side to the uplifting gospel music when I feel a pat to my rear. It wasn't an oops-I've-accidentally-bumped-into-you pat. Nor was it a great-run-into-the-endzone-for-a-touchdown swat.

Someone gently but loving patted my derriere. I assumed Dad2Amara decided to join us in line. Hornball.

But I was wrong.

A grinning elderly woman had grabbed my Asian posterior and commented, "I love that you're dancing! I saw you shaking and it made me smile."

Ewwwww. I feel violated.