So you played at the T-Room. I never go there. It was Thursday night and I was feeling down—until I saw you strumming at the side of the stage. I asked a friend who you were. No one seemed to know. So I figured I'd buy you a beer and find out. You were surrounded by beautiful girls. I felt exceedingly awkward. You said you don't drink, so I gave you some water instead. I wanted to tell you your voice kills me. Your eyes kick ass. Your brief set made my night. When and where do you play again? —That Bimbo with the Beer