August 12th, 2002


Playing Catch-Up

I have been feeling unmotivated and uncreative lately, hence my slim-posting. I wrote a nice long entry on Saturday afternoon about the Not-So-Newlywed game last week, but it got deleted in an LJ burp, and I have been too lazy to retype it. Long story short: we came in second. The lesbian couple didn't show, so it was us, a gay couple and another straight couple, the girl of which was a big damn cheater. Chuck Woolory would never allow anyone to lead their partner the way she was. So, fortunately, the gay couple won. What makes it even sweeter is those guys didn't even know there was a prize at stake, they were just doing it to help out the host, and they turned out to be really nice guys who we hung out with for the remainder of the evening. Mick and I seemed to be crowd favorites, and Ester said she was pulling for us also and that we could come back and play any time we want.

I called in sick on Thursday and it was probably the best thing I have done for myself in weeks. Sure, you could say it was because I was hung over from Wednesday; I had drank more than my share of cheap American beer throughout the night, and when I woke up and felt like my brain was going to fall out of my forehead, I couldn't focus enough to put my eyeliner on, I figured I would snap out of it. But when the weather guy on the radio said it was going to be the last day of pleasant weather before another few weeks of 100+ degree heat indices and Code Red Ozone Action days, I figured Fuck it. I slept in, went shopping, frolicked in the niceness, and got tons of things accomplished. I woke up Friday morning feeling better and more energized than I had in weeks.

Which brings me to Friday. I have been becoming friends with a girl at work and she invited me to go to Sign of the Whale with her after work sometime, and I had been putting it off until I proposed that we hang out this past Friday, especially since we're on leave-at-2pm Friday summer schedule. I invited Bob White to come along with us, and we were ready to rock and roll. Then Friday morning, she tells me she probably can't go due to sudden craziness and scheduling conflicts. I tell Bob it may just be us, but we go on out anyway.

It's 3:30, I'm running late, and get a call on my cell from my work friend. Turns she *can* go, and I tell her that I'm running late and to keep her eyes peeled for a blonde buzz-cutted guy who will probably be wearing a blue shirt. I arrive at Sign of the Whale about 15 minutes late to find them sitting next to each other with no idea who the other is. I join them, we all start chitchatting, then the regulars who my friend knows start chiming in as well. One of the guys, whether or not we're involved in another conversation, blurts out presidential trivia questions every few minutes. Turns out we're talking to the owner, his son, and some of their other friends, who all seemed to be heavily-accented Irish or Scottish guys. After some good time revelry, and a little resistance from the bartender who refuses to make a girly shot, we head across the street to Roumors, where my friend knows the bartender and was hoping to run into someone. The guys from Sign of the Whale must have left seconds after we did, since after a short trip to the ATM, since who do we find sitting in Roumors having beers as though they'd been there for hours.

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