Mr. F-word meets Ginger

I had an amusing experience today at my brewery job. As one might expect, being the only woman working in a place serving beer I get flirted with, or just plain stared at, fairly often. Most of the time, this doesn't reach levels of true obnoxiousness. However, tonight, there was a man, presumably about my own age even though his behavior belied it, accompanied by two younger men who said that he was their uncle. He sprinkled the f-word so liberally throughout his comments that I genuinely, with no exaggeration, could not tell what he was trying to say some of the time. At any rate, the nephews kept apologizing for him, which I found very amusing. At one point Mr. F-word told me that I was awfully giggly, and that he liked that in a woman. I don't giggle. I laugh. Loudly. At any rate, after a few more moments of heckling and badly worded come-ons, he then said, "No, no, I'm sorry, I'll stop." I told him please not to because I needed the entertainment. A few minutes later he asked me what my name was, and I looked pointedly at his nephews and asked, "Is it safe to tell him my name?" Vigorous head-shaking ensued from both parties. So I told Mr. F-word that my name is Ginger, which made his nephews laugh uproariously. "Ginger!" They shouted gleefully. "Yeah, that's my stage name." I think Mr. F-word believed me.