Bark bark bark
Bark bark bark
Bark bark bark bark bark
Sorry. I have the song in my head where the barking dogs bark out "Jingle Bells". Yeah, I know, I should seek help, but that might actually fix things, and it's more fun when you can confuse yourself on a daily basis.
Ok, the weekend. From what I remember, it involved losing my virginity twice, yet another BBQ, and dumb phone calls. Let's begin ...
Friday, headed over to Fed Hill to meet my peeps at Little Havana's. Lots of mistakes in Friday's game plan. F'rinstance:
Havana's was hopping. Beautiful night, some cool folks hanging there, not too crowded. So, since all of those things are totally unappealing for whatever reason, we decided to leave and go to Mother's. Yeah. Not the brightest of moves. I wish I could explain the thought process that goes along with these dumb decisions, but I can't. Someone gets an idea, and it seems like absolute brilliance when it's conveyed to the rest of us. Upon arrival at Mother's, I was a bit dismayed to realize that the guy/girl ratio was roughly 6,724 to 1. I'm estimating, but I think that's pretty close.
As if this isn't bad enough, one of our buddies gets totally sucked in by the Guinness girl, who asks him to take a survey in exchange for a free Guinness. The kicker is, the survey was 8 pages long. 8 friggin' pages! I had time to get drunk twice in the time it took for him to finish this thing.
We finally split the Men's Club meeting at Mother's, and headed to Nick's. Nick's wasn't bad, but I had the ants for Canton. So, I'm standing there scratching the ants (not a pretty visual, I understand), and this woman walks up and says hello, and asks if I remember her. I didn't. She starts describing when we met, what I was wearing, what time of day it was, which planets were aligned where, etc. Now, I have absolutely no idea who this person is, but there's that point when you have to actually pretend that you remember, or they're going to keep trying to jog your memory, ya know? We've all done that, right? Ok, well, I'm the only one then. Fine. So, I give her the "Oh yeah!", complete with fake enthusiasm, head nod and smile.
After a bit, she splits, and I go outside to look for a cab. I'm talking to the bouncer for a bit and this fancy BMW pulls up and it's the "I don't remember you" woman. She's going to Canton! Perfect.
Now, there are levels of boring. There's boring. There's watching the 700 Club. There's reading these blogs. There's listening to a lecture on the development of the cardboard box while staring at a picture of Rush Limbaugh. About 1/2 step below that is this woman. Wow. Quite possibly the longest ride to Canton ever. We arrive, go into Portside, she goes to the bathroom, and I run for the side door to escape.
At this point, I'm done for the night and ready to go home. But, wait! There's more idiocy! As I'm passing the local pizza joint, I figure I'll see if the hot neighbor wants to split a pie. I call her up on the phone, but she doesn't answer and I don't leave a message (she's a pretty smart cookie, not answering my calls and all that). Well, I'm clearly not smart enough to figure out that some people have the same name in this world, because I called the wrong one. Turns out, I called a friend's wife ... who has the same name ... at 1:00 am on a Friday night. Brilliant!
Saturday started out really well. I found out that if you throw an iPod mini as hard as you can at a wood floor, the iPod usually doesn't work too well after it stops bouncing. Time to buy a new iPod. Let's just move on.
Hit a BBQ put on by some friends that I used to work with in another life. I had one major revelation here - it's actually possible for some women to talk about shopping for several hours in a row. It actually drove me to drink ... like I need help with that.
Let's discuss car bombs for a moment. The shot, that is. Now, any shot that has the word "bomb" in it should be avoided at all costs, doncha think? I agree with that as well, yet it was MY IDEA to buy a round of car bombs at our first stop of the evening. Now, we've already established that I'm not so bright. For those that don't know, I don't drink beer. I quit in college, and I've only drank beer three times since then:
1. I was singing onstage with this band at the beach when some girl handed me a beer. Since I was singing in front of a crowd of people and the girl was hot, I felt obligated to drink it. Bleh.
2. *Sigh* ... this is a long story, but I'll just shorten it by saying that I drank beer out of a baby bottle (complete with nipple) while sitting on a woman's lap in the Bahamas. I think I'll just let your little imaginations run with that one.
3. The car bomb I did on Saturday.
The beauty of it is, I didn't know the shot involved beer. I ordered them, carried the li'l shot of Bailey's or whatever over to our group, and figured this was going to be a piece o'cake. They looked at me and asked where the rest of the shot was. The rest of what? Turned around, and there's the beer on the bar. Newman! So, I'm no longer a car bomb virgin ... although I don't really see myself doing one ever again. Double bleh.
I've seen some weird things in my life. I once saw a bearded lady at the carnival. I once saw a cheap friend of mine buy a round. And now, I can say that I've seen karaoke. I can also safely say that I never need to see karaoke again. And, yes, I was sorta drunk when I saw it, and it didn't help. I did have this interesting exchange with a woman from my gym, though:
Me: Hey, you go to my gym.
She: I do? YOUR gym?
Me: Yeah, that's my gym. You're just renting it.
She: How much is your membership?
Me: $59/month
She: Really? Mine is $80/month!
Me: Um ... ok ... then I guess it's YOUR gym.
This was followed by a lot of snickering about how much she's paying ... like I'm getting a bargain or something at my price. Cripes.
[An aside ... this is the second time in a week that a woman that I see at the gym hasn't recognized me. I figure if it happens another 40 or 50 times, maybe it's a sign of some sort? That, or I can just start wearing tight pink biking shorts to the gym. I bet they'll remember that!]
BTW, I might have to start breaking these blogs up by night ... this noise is getting long, and there's a holiday weekend coming up!
At our next stop, we noticed the bouncer was wearing gloves. I asked him why, and he explained that guys go to the bathroom and don't wash their hands, and then they always want to shake the bouncer's hand when they leave. Personally, I'm not really in the habit of shaking the hand of the bouncer when I leave, but I didn't pursue that line of questioning. So, we bounced out of there and hit another bar down the street. Again, a bouncer wearing gloves. I ask him the same question, and I get the EXACT SAME ANSWER, right down to the exact same words. I was so fascinated by the similarity of answers that I shook the bouncer's hand, then realized what I had just done. Ew, indeed.
Sunday ... recovery. I also found out that I "look cute" when I'm sleeping. I'm not sure if I can use that on a resume.
One final note ... is there anything cooler than hearing a favorite new song on the radio? I was cruising back to the city on Saturday, windows down, and "Low" by Coldplay was on HFS. Woot!
Bark bark bark
Bark bark bark bark bark
Sorry. I have the song in my head where the barking dogs bark out "Jingle Bells". Yeah, I know, I should seek help, but that might actually fix things, and it's more fun when you can confuse yourself on a daily basis.
Ok, the weekend. From what I remember, it involved losing my virginity twice, yet another BBQ, and dumb phone calls. Let's begin ...
Friday, headed over to Fed Hill to meet my peeps at Little Havana's. Lots of mistakes in Friday's game plan. F'rinstance:
Havana's was hopping. Beautiful night, some cool folks hanging there, not too crowded. So, since all of those things are totally unappealing for whatever reason, we decided to leave and go to Mother's. Yeah. Not the brightest of moves. I wish I could explain the thought process that goes along with these dumb decisions, but I can't. Someone gets an idea, and it seems like absolute brilliance when it's conveyed to the rest of us. Upon arrival at Mother's, I was a bit dismayed to realize that the guy/girl ratio was roughly 6,724 to 1. I'm estimating, but I think that's pretty close.
As if this isn't bad enough, one of our buddies gets totally sucked in by the Guinness girl, who asks him to take a survey in exchange for a free Guinness. The kicker is, the survey was 8 pages long. 8 friggin' pages! I had time to get drunk twice in the time it took for him to finish this thing.
We finally split the Men's Club meeting at Mother's, and headed to Nick's. Nick's wasn't bad, but I had the ants for Canton. So, I'm standing there scratching the ants (not a pretty visual, I understand), and this woman walks up and says hello, and asks if I remember her. I didn't. She starts describing when we met, what I was wearing, what time of day it was, which planets were aligned where, etc. Now, I have absolutely no idea who this person is, but there's that point when you have to actually pretend that you remember, or they're going to keep trying to jog your memory, ya know? We've all done that, right? Ok, well, I'm the only one then. Fine. So, I give her the "Oh yeah!", complete with fake enthusiasm, head nod and smile.
After a bit, she splits, and I go outside to look for a cab. I'm talking to the bouncer for a bit and this fancy BMW pulls up and it's the "I don't remember you" woman. She's going to Canton! Perfect.
Now, there are levels of boring. There's boring. There's watching the 700 Club. There's reading these blogs. There's listening to a lecture on the development of the cardboard box while staring at a picture of Rush Limbaugh. About 1/2 step below that is this woman. Wow. Quite possibly the longest ride to Canton ever. We arrive, go into Portside, she goes to the bathroom, and I run for the side door to escape.
At this point, I'm done for the night and ready to go home. But, wait! There's more idiocy! As I'm passing the local pizza joint, I figure I'll see if the hot neighbor wants to split a pie. I call her up on the phone, but she doesn't answer and I don't leave a message (she's a pretty smart cookie, not answering my calls and all that). Well, I'm clearly not smart enough to figure out that some people have the same name in this world, because I called the wrong one. Turns out, I called a friend's wife ... who has the same name ... at 1:00 am on a Friday night. Brilliant!
Saturday started out really well. I found out that if you throw an iPod mini as hard as you can at a wood floor, the iPod usually doesn't work too well after it stops bouncing. Time to buy a new iPod. Let's just move on.
Hit a BBQ put on by some friends that I used to work with in another life. I had one major revelation here - it's actually possible for some women to talk about shopping for several hours in a row. It actually drove me to drink ... like I need help with that.
Let's discuss car bombs for a moment. The shot, that is. Now, any shot that has the word "bomb" in it should be avoided at all costs, doncha think? I agree with that as well, yet it was MY IDEA to buy a round of car bombs at our first stop of the evening. Now, we've already established that I'm not so bright. For those that don't know, I don't drink beer. I quit in college, and I've only drank beer three times since then:
1. I was singing onstage with this band at the beach when some girl handed me a beer. Since I was singing in front of a crowd of people and the girl was hot, I felt obligated to drink it. Bleh.
2. *Sigh* ... this is a long story, but I'll just shorten it by saying that I drank beer out of a baby bottle (complete with nipple) while sitting on a woman's lap in the Bahamas. I think I'll just let your little imaginations run with that one.
3. The car bomb I did on Saturday.
The beauty of it is, I didn't know the shot involved beer. I ordered them, carried the li'l shot of Bailey's or whatever over to our group, and figured this was going to be a piece o'cake. They looked at me and asked where the rest of the shot was. The rest of what? Turned around, and there's the beer on the bar. Newman! So, I'm no longer a car bomb virgin ... although I don't really see myself doing one ever again. Double bleh.
I've seen some weird things in my life. I once saw a bearded lady at the carnival. I once saw a cheap friend of mine buy a round. And now, I can say that I've seen karaoke. I can also safely say that I never need to see karaoke again. And, yes, I was sorta drunk when I saw it, and it didn't help. I did have this interesting exchange with a woman from my gym, though:
Me: Hey, you go to my gym.
She: I do? YOUR gym?
Me: Yeah, that's my gym. You're just renting it.
She: How much is your membership?
Me: $59/month
She: Really? Mine is $80/month!
Me: Um ... ok ... then I guess it's YOUR gym.
This was followed by a lot of snickering about how much she's paying ... like I'm getting a bargain or something at my price. Cripes.
[An aside ... this is the second time in a week that a woman that I see at the gym hasn't recognized me. I figure if it happens another 40 or 50 times, maybe it's a sign of some sort? That, or I can just start wearing tight pink biking shorts to the gym. I bet they'll remember that!]
BTW, I might have to start breaking these blogs up by night ... this noise is getting long, and there's a holiday weekend coming up!
At our next stop, we noticed the bouncer was wearing gloves. I asked him why, and he explained that guys go to the bathroom and don't wash their hands, and then they always want to shake the bouncer's hand when they leave. Personally, I'm not really in the habit of shaking the hand of the bouncer when I leave, but I didn't pursue that line of questioning. So, we bounced out of there and hit another bar down the street. Again, a bouncer wearing gloves. I ask him the same question, and I get the EXACT SAME ANSWER, right down to the exact same words. I was so fascinated by the similarity of answers that I shook the bouncer's hand, then realized what I had just done. Ew, indeed.
Sunday ... recovery. I also found out that I "look cute" when I'm sleeping. I'm not sure if I can use that on a resume.
One final note ... is there anything cooler than hearing a favorite new song on the radio? I was cruising back to the city on Saturday, windows down, and "Low" by Coldplay was on HFS. Woot!
posted by AxnJxn at 7:48 AM
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