I had a fairly wretched weekend last week - I came down with a cold, had my jacket (Contents: Keys, sunglasses, Watch Cap comma black comma wool comma one each, chapstick, 4 certs) sort of stolen on Friday night - someone walked out with it from the crappy basement bar that I frequent (Possibly the best crappy basement bar in the whole world).
I assumed that it wasn't theft - the jacket is tired, old, worn out, and smells like an ashtray. My bag, hanging over the back of the very same barstool, remained unmolested. But that's all by the by. The result was that I had to break into my house that night - and now I need to replace a window, and I don't think I've gotten all of the glass up.
Then the Redskins lost.
Spent the weekend wrapped up in bathrobe and blankets, sick as a dog, and more than a little miffed at having to get all ghetto - boarding up the broken window strikes me as a little on the wrong side of Cletus.
Anyway, the good news is that I was right about the jacket not being stolen. Whoever took it returned it to the bar sometime this weekend, and I picked it up on Tuesday, contents intact.
Wednesday brought bitter snarky comments from coworkers - several of whom are being laid off reassigned to new positions (from the sound of things, the positions in question involve firmly gripping ones ankles while arching the back in that oh-so seductive way that says "take me, you sexy beast") and I, somehow, am to blame. It really isn't my fault that I'm underpaid and know too much, but at layoff time, they're pretty good qualities to possess.
Last minute bowling plan cancellation Wednesday night left me wandering back to the Crappy Basement Bar, to be greeted by a sign on the door: "Closed due to flooding" or something similar. Went down to grab my darts, surveyed the damage (not too bad, though water was still seeping in from next door), and headed off to the Black Rooster in search of Worthy Opponents.
I stopped at Mackey's on the way - say hello to Carlos, knock out a sudoku, and throw a couple of warm up games before I have to face real competition. I ended up throwing with a couple of guys and a girl, mildy distracted by a girl across the bar that looked vaguely familiar. She was hanging out with a bunch of folks, and as I looked over, I saw another girl that I-thought-I-had-maybe-met-somewhere-before-but-I-couldn't-say-where.
Everything became clear (or at least a little clearer) when the girl I was shooting darts with said something along the lines of "...and I still haven't seen the bloggers."
They're everywhere, I tell you. They're like cockroaches, except that they're frequently much cuter and usually more interesting. Ok, so I guess that they're not really all that much like cockroaches after all. Except for the being everywhere thing.
Other familiar looking girl was Kathryn, who I'd met months ago while slumming around with my friend AUA (for the record, any time you find yourself hanging out with AUA, you can safely assume that you are, in fact, slumming). So I introduced the dart girl to Kathryn, hung out for a while, had a few more beers, chatted with a few folks, threw a few more darts (I owned the board that night). Kathryn has a link-rich roundup of the event here.
Thursday night: Alchemy at Nation. Kind of a bleh night. Saw my friend Kaija for the first time in ages, but aside from that, was turning out to be a wasted trip. Ended up sitting and chatting with a couple of friends - attractive, female, engaged or married.
"That's what I'm talkin' about!" I said. "This is what I come down here for - hanging out with the hot married chicks."
"Hot bisexual married chicks in an open relationship", married one replied. "They're the best kind."
"Dear Penthouse, I never thought this would happen to me..." I didn't say.
Am I the only one that thinks that lipstick should be a little more resilient? I love me some smooching, but wow. The clown makeup look from smeared lipstick just looks a little too silly, even on a hot chick. I hate to think how ridiculous it looked on a bald guy with a shaved head.
You were afraid I would grab my boob again, weren't you? That's why you didn't come over and say hello.
For the record, I never saw you at all. Oh well.
Posted by: Rhinestone Cowgirl | January 20, 2006 at 06:05 PM
I think you left right before I walked over. If it's any consolation, I did think that you looked rather fetching in your tiara...
Posted by: Lex Gibson | January 21, 2006 at 10:46 AM
She rocks the tiara like Andre 3000 rocks the vertical stripes.
Posted by: A_Unique_Alias | January 23, 2006 at 01:29 PM