Okay, it's Thursday, July the 6th, 2006... okay you already know that. I'm just a little rusty with my Bloggie, it's been SOoo long. A lot has happened since I wrote last, but we will not dwell on the past, we will deal with the now. Or with last night.
Last night was chill, no sign of Roz (don't worry yur beloved star has not gone away). So Gal Pal #??? Uh, I can't remember what gal pal number I'm up too... anyway... she shoots me a text...--it goes something like this-- "blah, out...beer...bar! blah"-- okay that wasn't even close to the text, well close enough ;-) So we go out to the Court Tavern (America's favorite dive bar AKA "Home"). There was about 7 people there (what do you expect, it was Wed. night!). Before I could sit down my cell phone was blowing up, it was Gal Pal # ?-I don't know, (I'll get it right by my next post... I promise) so anyway she was basically telemarketing me. What! Friends don't let friends telemarket each other. She volunteers for some organization that has something to do with oil and for $11 a month you can... Ahh, I can't remember I was just trying to get a beer at the bar (sorry dear) Nah, but it was for a good cause (I think), I gotta get more info to post, and maybe some of you alcoholics out there can give up a few beers and donate $11 a month for a good cause! Right!
Anyway I had a glass of wine and my friend had a beer and a shot (yea, she's a drinker). I tried to have a soft conversation about this porno that I saw the other night, but some guy was all up in my grill. So I had to stop that conversation. You can whisper the word "porn" in a crowded arena and some sleazy deaf guy will overhear you. Okay that's rude... but porn is definitely a guys subject and two girls having a conversation about porn gets their juices flowing even more.
So we left that bar and peeked into a few wack bars and then decided to go home, no not "Home", "Home#2" --McCormick's (America's second favorite dive bar). McCormick's was hopping a little, there were about 25 people there. My friend and I had beers, I saw this Clark Kent lookin' hottie, and I talked to him, I told him that I would be his Lois anytime, and my snatch would be like krytonite in the bedroom, it would bring him to his knees... and I'm lying **like rug... funny, but I would never say stuff like that to a guy. (But Roz would)
So after my little daydream about Mr. Kent, some guy walks into the bar. I thought he was drunk, my friend said that he was high (probably off that crack rock). He walks in stops and stares at me, then he proceeds to stand there and make faces at me while mumbling gibberish. He was too close for comfort! Seriously, about five minutes goes by, he's still there. I shyly laugh it off, and try to ignore him. A part of me was almost praying for him to touch me so I could smash my beer bottle across his skull. But I'm not really violent and I wasn't drunk. If Roz was there she would have fucked this guy up--big time! No doubt! (And then would probably cry about it later.) The guy finally decided to walk away. In a daze of pondering what I should've--would've, I almost missed my friend scurrying after this guy... and I stopped her just in time. Oh yeah, it would have gotten ugly. One crackhead against a lot of drunks, we would have made the papers. Glad it didn't turn into that. If it turned ugly I was more worried about this guy coming after me, later in the streets --than-- smashing his face in and then having the whole bar give him a "South Central beat down." I should have first cared more about harming another human being, but that was only secondary. Does that make me bad. Nah, it makes me human.
