I Know I Know

I know–second post already today. Yikes. And I know I really should be correcting papers but I’m not. I was. But I’m not. There’s always time for that later.

Okay, Friday after work I went out with a couple of co-workers, C-pet and Sassy. (I know, the nicknames I come up with are getting worse and worse). We talked a bit about Sassy’s relationships and her relationship rule–“three months and out.” And we talked a little about my relationships–Afternoon Girl and, um, JetBlue. Anyway the one highlight I remember from the whole conversation was when C-pet asked if anything were still going on between JetBlue and I. And I said no, that we had just agreed to be friends. She asked “Are you friends with benefits?” to which I replied: “Yeah, but the benefit is that I get to go home alone and not with her at the end of the night.” Booyah! That one came right out off the top of my head.

Then, later on I stopped by the bar to watch the Sox and meet up with D. He was exhausted, as I was, from Thursday, and he kept talking about going home early. Well, he stretched the night until ten and then we were thinking of going for one last nightcap down the hill. We paid our tabs and as we were about to leave, in comes K2 and M. And apparently it was her birthday. I must’ve missed that memo. So after a few minutes of talking, D. decides he’s just going straight home and, foolishly, I decided to stay.

So there I was hanging out with M. and K2, which should’ve been the most wonderful thing for me–quality time with K2 has been hard to come by. But instead, I was exhausted and wasn’t really do well on my end of the conversation. Nothing witty came to mind; I couldn’t think of anything to talk about. I fucked it all up. Of course, the thing is, it’s kind of hard to talk to K2. Her mind goes off in all different directions, random thoughts pop out as words. She routinely points out that she looks like a 15 year old boy. She even does the occasional interpretive dance instead of using words. Oh, and she’ll curl and uncurl a lock of her hair obsessively and say “I can make you curly. I can make you straight.”Hehe…and she did talk about how she remembers different events in her life as numbers, e.g., “When I went to my friend’s graduation party I remember it as the number 15 because that’s how many chairs were in the room.” I have to hear more about THAT sometime soon…that’s all I’m gonna say there. So, at any rate, Friday was a nice but tired night and I pretty much did not impress my K2 at all.

Saturday, I went up to a Irish fest in New York State with the boyz. It was a great time, but not much to offer about that. After I got them home at like 12:30 I decided to stop by the bar for a quick one or five. Most of the usual suspects were there and it was a good ol’ time. D. had come up from Nick’s with K2 in tow, which kind of surprised me because he always slags her off. Anyway, shots were done, last call came and went and I left M. and D. and K2 and the Saturday Girl and went home, exhausted once again.

Cue to six hours later when I’m awoken by a call from D.: “Hey–wanna go golfing?” Once I was conscious, I was all about that. So, though, in talking to D. I find out that K2 went home with him. Prick. Not that it effects my wanting K2 or my chances or anything like that, but he knows that I like her and all. He could’ve at least not told me. He even went into vivid detail, but I won’t share that with you, except for the funny part of it: “The trouble is, when you’re with her you sometimes feel like you’re with a fifteen year old boy. that’s creepy.” Anyway, it was going to be awhile before we could get on the course so we stopped at the bar at–and I knowthis is scary–11:30. Yes A.M. No, not my idea.

After golf, D. and I stopped by a different bar, where he was going to meet some woman for Pina Coladas. I only stayed a short while but got to hear a funny story about one of the bartenders there, who is a very old school, downtown-style bartender.

Customer: Could I have a Long Island Iced Tea?

Bartender: We ain’t got that.

and…

Customer: Could I get a Jaegerbomb and a “Grateful Dead”?

Bartender: (opens two Bud Lights and gives them to the customer) There ya go.

So, anyway, I went home, napped and headed back out. I ran into R. and a few other people including one of the bartender’s mother, who is the hottest 53 year old on the planet. But, anyway, I’ve mentioned before that R. is a nice, sweet, sensitive guy. You know, of all the “pharmacists” I know, he’s the one I’d set my sister up with–if I had a sister, that is. But, anyway, at some point he points out that there were a lot of women in the bar and I replied, in my sly dog voice, “And they’re all here for you, R.” The kind of joking thing I say to D. all the time. And R. was all upset. He says: “Oh man, was I being conceited? Why did you say that?” And I had to reassure him that I was just joking and it didn’t have anything personal to do with him. And he added “I really worry what people think of me.” I felt so bad. R. is the last person at the bar that I’d want to say something rude to. But I guess the point of this little anecdote is that that’s how sensitive he really is.

Monday, I took little D^ golfing for the first time to a par 3 course. It was a great time. I taught him creative score keeping, showed him how to use his “boot wedge” and we gave each other golf nicknames: he is “ball loser”; and I am “tee breaker.” Hey, he’s ten, did you think we were going to come up with “Jock-itcher” and “Mr. No Balls”? At any rate, he discovered the greatest joy of golf–that two and a half hours can feel like ten minutes when you’re playing a nice relaxing round with a buddy.

The rest of the night was inconsequential. I went out to watch the Sox. D. showed up with some girl he had met the night before. She was 21 but looked 17. I ended up heading out early, to have my weekly date with Tony Bourdain.

Off to see what tonight will bring.

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One Response to “I Know I Know”

  1. PressPosts / User / Silent_Chill / Submitted Says:

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    Submited post on PressPosts.com – “I Know I Know”

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