Happy Hour

Happy Hour

On Friday, Geo and I went out to celebrate the birthday of one of his co-workers. Different co-workers this time, only Morpheus was there from last year's "Night of the Grimy Strip Joint." We started off at Houlihan's, where the lesson began, in how fried mushrooms caps and a buffalo wing are not good pre-cursors to a night of drinking.

After that we went to Whiskey Bar, which is apparently the it place to be, unless it's summer, when everyone is in Belmar. Meh. Is it me or does anyone else loathe the it places to be. I feel dirty just for being there. Luckily, it was dead and so the crew decided to head to a place in Hoboken, which was super trendy. But by that point I didn't care since I was already feeling a slight buzz, thanks to something called "The Godfather" (whiskey and amaretto) which sounds unpleasant and scary but is in fact welcoming and cheerful.

Eventually, it came that time of night. That time of night where I get sent out to convince women the men have previously scoped out to come over and say hi. Tonight's contestant was a waitress at the joint who Mike J and I dubbed "Kirlie" because she looked like a cross between our friends Kat and Girlie. I walked over there with some gay ass line about how I thought she was one of my friends and struck up a conversation. I was at my effervescent and charming best and she was like "You are so cute." Yes, I really can be cute when I'm trying to get my friends laid. I am going straight to hell. I try and justify it by saying that any man or woman who would bang someone they've only known for 18 minutes is probably pretty easy anyway, so my actions aren't determining the course of events they're just navigating them in a certain direction. That works doesn't it?

The birthday boy (Happy Birthday Rob!) got nice and toasted through the night. Luckily he's not one of those mean drunks, he's one of those mushy ones. The ones that get uber philosophical or start talking about love. Unfortunately, my alcohol-sodden mental filter never registers in time when someone is being sweet and I end up ruining the moment. Like this:

Rob: You know that guy George really loves you man.
Me: Well that's good, then I won't have to kill him.
Rob: Huh?
Me: You know, to get custody of the kids.
Rob: No I mean he LOVES you so much. I've never seen anyone love someone that much.
Me (belatedly feeling sheepish): Yeah I know, I love him that much too.

At least it wasn't just me, Mike J is good at ruining the moment too:

Rob: Everyone touches everyone's life. Even strangers touch your life.
Mike J: Yeah, this woman at my work... a stranger really touched her life once. She walked into the office and we were like "What is that on your back?" Some guy on the PATH jizzed all over her jacket. She just threw it away at lunch and bought a new one.
Me: I would have just sent it to the cleaners. Was it a nice jacket?
Mike It was a red fur jacket.
Me: Oh definitely then.

When we got home, Geo and I had to take care of some business because we always get frisky when buzzed. It's the reason we have the twins. I mean sure it would be pleasant and All-American to give this big old speech about family planning but in the end we owe our darling daughters to whiskey and a Victoria's Secret bustier. He literally fell asleep about a minute after, and the next day I saw this at the bookstore. I didn't buy it though, I don't understand why some women get so upset with men for falling asleep after sex. You're already finished with them right. Better after than before or DURING.

By the way, apparently my comment box is acting a bit sheisty.

On 8/14/06, Marc wrote:

Your comment box doesn't like me.

"Please wait at least 20 seconds between posts (another -2 second(s))."

How do I wait another -2 seconds?