Lovelorn Poets

From Anchorage to Zebulon: In Search of Missed Connections

Missed Connections in Maine: Where Are My Shoes?

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Lovelorn Poets and KC and the Sunshine Band

Musical Missed Connections

Where Are My Shoes?
Missed Connections from Maine

I had some cool green LL bean shoes moccasin type things and now I don’t.
These are the kind of shoes that make you feel sort of like a mixture between Bam Margera, Robin Hood and maybe like, an elf from an RPG.
If you have any information on the whereabouts of these shoes please tell me.
If I get these shoes back I will definitely draw a picture or make a pie for the person who brings ’em back.
P.S. I just put “mw” in the thing so that men and women would know to look at this. This isn’t some weird code for like, some freaky themed mating circle.
P.P.S. Has anyone else ever lost their shoes?

One Year Ago: Missed Connections in Vermont: VW Wagon That Pissed On Me

Lovelorn Poets her two cents iconHer Two Cents from the Missed Connections Chief Bottle-Finder:
Some people have a thing for shoes. A ways back I posted a message about shoe lust and the dangers of standing too close to an open elevator shaft (can’t quite remember where that one was from…) and today we have a Mainer lamenting the loss of some green LL Beans. I’m not quite sure why our poet thought that missing shoes could be a code phrase for “freaky themed mating circle” but I suppose it’s best to be completely upfront about what you’re looking for – in this case, it’s just shoes.


Missed Connections in Savannah, GA: You Copied My Wine Order

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Lovelorn Poets and Sticks McGhee

Musical Missed Connections

You Copied My Wine Order
Missed Connections from Savannah

So I thought that I might have seen you. I’m pretty sure you saw me too, as you were the only other person at the table…and you were looking right at me.

…and talking to me. And like, saying my name occasionally so as to verify that we didn’t accidentally sit at the wrong table.

…and thankfully you were cool with sharing the super awesome bang bang shrimp appetizer. That place is awesome. I’d live there if I could. For those who don’t know where I’m talking about, it rhymes with Bonefish Grill…really quite well.

I was tempted to prove my manliness (and strip you from any personal choice) and order for the entire table, but decided against it. At some point in the past that passed for being a gentleman or something, as if talking to a server was simply too much pressure for women. Maybe they were afraid that while ordering, the waiter might actually sneak a peak at an accidentally exposed ankle or something.

It’s probably better that you got what you did. I might have ordered a 12 oz fire-roasted, grass fed, hand slain steak or something…still on fire. Maybe throw in a baked potato and a side of adventure…and then ask for seconds.

We ordered wine and after trying mine you decided that I had won at the game of wine-choosing and ordered a glass for yourself. Later on you bought a nice bottle to share, and even though we didn’t give it the right time to breathe, I’ll still award you one point as my graciousness knows no bounds. So for now the score reads: me 1, you 1… Just let me find that bottle of Tobin James and you can just kiss the wine snob 2012 trophy goodbye.

Also, you’re super beautiful. No fair.
-Blue

One Year Ago: Missed Connections in Santa Fe, NM: I Still Ache For You

Lovelorn Poets her two cents iconHer Two Cents from the Missed Connections Chief Bottle-Finder:
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve featured a “Blue” message from Savannah and I now have quite the collection. I have to wonder if these are pure fiction, Moveable Feast style truths, or something in between. This old Appalachian blues song from Stick McGhee couldn’t be the better choice – a real charmer. Mr. Savannah Blue just might agree…


Missed Connections in Santa Fe, NM: I Still Ache For You

Missed Connections in Austin, TX: To My Fellow Coconut

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Lovelorn Poets and Harry Nilsson

Musical Missed Connections

To My Fellow Coconut
Missed Connections from Austin

We were such good friends. You and I basked in the glory of Whole Foods day after day. We watched as our brethren were taken from us, liquefied or eaten. But we were safe, we were immune, we escaped prejudice. That was before the dark times, before the man in the suspenders. He took us in such unceremonious fashion, clunking us together merrily as he walked toward the prison exit. The only solace we had as we left our prison was that we were being kept in the same paper cell. Later, rustling and our cell is opened and we’re clunked together merrily again and then placed on a metal terrace. We sit there for hours, awaiting our fate knowing the only good omen is the lack of a bludgeoning instrument that comprises our only weakness. Our captors talk and laugh, talk and laugh. One of them takes you and crudely rips all of the hair from you like feathers from a chicken. My captor is kinder, the only wrong being placing me in solitude in the paper cell occasionally. Finally, it looks like we’re about to be returned to each other. We’re in the paper cell again, rustling, bustling. Oh, thank the maker. But no, just when we feel safe together the cell re-opens and you are plucked from it before it closes again and I am left alone, in the dark. I’m writing to you from my captor’s house, and I want you to know I will never give up. Every night I think of you, I sit there thinking of my revenge and rescue of you. Then, the nightmares come and the only thing I hear is one word. One name that echoes and reverberates through my person until my milk curdles… Patsy.

One Year Ago: Missed Connection in Jersey Shore, NJ: It’s Sad When Someone You Know…

Lovelorn Poets her two cents iconHer Two Cents from the Missed Connections Chief Bottle-Finder:
Poor coconut. Something tells me your stay of execution will not be granted (remember, even though you came from the Whole Foods in Austin, it’s still Texas…) and you will go on to meet your fallen coconut comrade in the never-ending palm tree in the sky.  Your captors have nothing on their minds except making pina-coladas. Accept your fate knowing that the end was far worse for the pineapple.


Missed Connections in San Francisco, CA: Things I Should Have Said To You At The Bar Last Night, Part 6

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Missed Connections in the City of San Francisco

Pool, Slots, Booze, Booze, Books by Alexei & Verne Stakhanov

 

Things I Should Have Said To You At The Bar Last Night
Missed Connections in the City of San Francisco

We stared at each other for quite some time last night across that crowded bar.
You, wearing, well, clothes.
I caught your eye and you smiled at me.
I smiled back. You tossed your hair.
I was shy and looked away.
I should have come up to you and said hello.
Thrown out a cheesy pickup line.
Not that I thought they’d work on you, but that you might laugh at my cheesiness.
But I didn’t.
I’m shy.
So here’s a list of cheesy pickup lines:

1. Hello, I’m a thief, and I’m here to steal your heart.
2. Excuse me, can you empty your pockets? I believe you have stolen my heart.
3. Giant polar bear (“What?”) It’s an icebreaker. Hi, my name is….

Which one is your favorite? (note from the ed. #1 You better have one heck of a sexy grin to get anything beyond a roll of the eyes. #2 Just a little too emo-cutesy. Might work on the under 16 crowd… #3 Not bad. Vocal execution will be the determining factor between appearing crazy-good and crazy-not-so-good)

Lovelorn Poets her two cents iconHer Two Cents from the Missed Connections Chief Bottle-Finder:
Welcome to Fromager’s Finest – fondly referred to as Things I Should Have Said To You At The Bar Last Night. This helpful and concerned individual published a useful list of “cheesy pick up lines” and kindly shared them through the San Francisco missed connections feed. So, hit your favorite watering hole, enjoy some fromage, and maybe…just maybe…get liquored up enough to try one out for real! Good luck!



Missed Connections in Nashville, TN: I Wanna Be Your Pet

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Lovelorn Poets and The Cramps

Musical Missed Connections

I Wanna Be Your Pet
Missed Connections from Nashville

I came in the other day to get something and you sold me all kinds of stuff I didn’t need.
I don’t even have fish. LOL.
But it was worth it just to talk to you.
I didn’t say much.
I was stupefied by your beauty.
I wanted to ask you for your # but other customers kept getting in the way.
Your name-tag said, ‘Trainer”. Can you train me?
I really wanna be your pet. Sigh.

Lovelorn Poets her two cents iconHer Two Cents from the Missed Connections Chief Bottle-Finder:
So who hasn’t been suckered into buying something they didn’t really need just because the sales person was incredibly attractive? This is why the sales-commission structure exists – everyone makes money except for the whale who bites at the bait. Think you’re the only one swimming in the fish-tank of love, dear poet? Think again… (although I bet they’d be happy to have you come back and purchase a habitrail and supplies for your non-existent pet hamster)


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