Thursday, January 20, 2005

How much fun can a Wednesday be? Pretty damned fun...

So I met up with my friend Melinda at the Moose last night, and we talked and laughed and ate and discussed the stupid men in our lives...it was so much fun. After she left, I joined other friends in another part of the bar (one of them is a server at the restaurant, and they aren't allowed to sit at the bar if they're going to be drinking alcohol...weird rule, no?), and we talked about the issues I have with my bartender friend. Well, not just that I have with her, apparently. Other people have issues, too, it seems.

See, we had tentative plans to head to a local bar last night for their steak dinner special (steak and a potato and salad for $9.95...), but then she ran into an old co-worker friend of hers on Monday, and he works at the bar way the hell out west of where I live, and suddenly we were going out there to see him on Wednesday. I told her I wasn't even sure if I was going to be in the mood to go out, but for some reason, she remembers that I told her I'd definitely probably want to go. So when I told her yesterday (when she called me at 4:45 wondering where I was at...um, it's called work? Der...) that I wanted to stay closer to home, and would rather go to the Moose to hang out and then watch the game, she got mad at me. Mind you, she was already drunk. I could tell by the way she was talking to me, and then the fact that she got pissed at me just cemented it. And I knew that she really just was mad because she either needed to find another ride to the west side bar, or she wouldn't be able to go, but it was stupid. She wound up saying, "Well, I just won't be making plans with you on Wednesdays any more. G'bye!" and then she hung up on me. And I was left sitting there thinking, um, she didn't make plans with me, she made the plans for me, and so if she's going to stop doing that, then great. But I hope she gets over it. My friends last night assured me that she gets over shit like that really quickly, so I hope they're right. Because I'm really fine with sticking around town and going out during the week. It was the 25 minute drive that she'd committed me to that had me irritated, you know? Sheesh...

Anyway, it's trouble, this drinking she does all the time. On Christmas Eve, she got pulled over after having gone from one bar to another to another, and blew a .29. That's not a joke, my friends. She blew a .2fucking9. (Legal limit is .08, I believe...) The cops wound up telling her that she needed to find a sober ride, and let her go. Because they were insane, apparently. She did find a ride, and now she won't drink and drive any more, which is fine with me. But she's relying on the rest of us to go places we don't want to go, and then give her a ride somewhere else or to her house, or whatever. You know, she might just go out and NOT drink instead, or something. But that's not an option for her, it seems. *sigh!*

So discussing it with my friends last night was helpful, I think. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one to think that she's an obnoxious drunk when she's been drinking, which seems to be a majority of the time. It's really kind of sad.

But overall, I wound up having a great evening, and slept really well last night, and am having a good morning so far. Except that it seems like terrorists snuck into my digestive system and planted a dirty bomb in there overnight. Screw that Boston plot-thing that everyone is talking about this morning...nope...they didn't go to Boston. They went to Faith's belly. I don't know what the fuck is up in there, but it needs to stop it. All I ate last night was penne pasta with grilled chicken, artichoke hearts and sun-dried tomatoes. While the artichokes can sometimes have a air-injecting effect on my bowels, it's never been this bad. Especially with such a small amount of them consumed! It's just weird. And annoying. And I'm done with it, is all.

And that's the news of the morning. I'm off to find fun things to read and look at and do a little work here and there. Because my desk is still a great big goddammed mess, and it's not getting any better on its own, like I keep wishing will happen when I leave here each night...stupid work on my desk.

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