Jesse night 1; Jesse night 2; 99 problems; The pole; Wine and cheese; Basquiat; Car trouble (not mine!)
It was an eventful week, this one. Might want to grab yourselves another cup of coffee or hit the bathroom before you begin...
12/12
It had been in the cards for a couple of weeks that we would go out in celebration of Jesse's finishing his qualifying exam. It was going to be a particularly eventful night because Char had preobtained permission for Graham to go out with us from his fiancé Kangela (Angela or Kennedy, depending on when you ask). Graham's outing was postponed until the next night, but we went ahead and began the festivities.
I met up with the Char, Jesse, and Leroy at Two Rows, as they were eating dinner. April and Rebecca were there to provide the feminine element, and the guys immediately set about getting them drunk. There was an extra air of immaturity that night thanks to the presence of the girls, which grated on my nerves.
Thankfully, I was just a few drinks away from being okay with it. We migrated to Woodrow's next, and along that path either Leroy or Char siced me on the other who was hitting on April. I forget who was doing what. Games of darts were played. The two ladies from the previous week showed up. Their names have long since left me, so we'll go with Italian and Latina. As the younger girls were still getting on my nerves, I hung out and talked with the two ethnics.
There was eventually a desire amongst the group to move over to someplace with liquor, so we migrated across the street to Baker Street. I somehow got conned into buying a round (8) of tequila shots. Drunkeness was soon achieved and good times were had. Closing time rolled around, we finished our whiskey or beer, and all of the sudden, I realized that Jesse was completely fucked up. As soon as we stepped outside onto the patio of Baker Street, Jesse vommitted in the bushes and then just sort of collapsed there. A concerned manager gave us a look; we assured him that Jesse was OK and that we would have him out of there in five minutes.
Leroy under one arm, myself under the other, we walked him out into the parking lot and loaded him up in the back of Char's truck.
12/13
Night number two came around, and we met at Char/Leroy/Will's before heading to midtown to the Front Porch. Jesse was still feeling awful, and could not be coaxed into a little hair of the dog to take the edge off. He had, apparently, spent most of the day collapsed in the shower, sipping gatorade, and trying to keep some chicken soup down. At some point, Latina joined us because she had fixated on Leroy.
We made a mistake in allowing Graham to come that near to his residence, and it was a tough sell to get him to continue with us. But continue we did, on to Brian O'Neil's, which had apparently decided to try to be a dance club for the night. The annoyance, combined with a tension headache in full swing, was overwhelming so I opted to take shelter outside.
Eventually Will and I wandered over to Woodrow's, where one of Will's friends was powering through the last of the "Big 50". The Big 50 demands that one, over the course of some period of time, consume 50 varieties of beer in a specific order, and have them marked off on a keychain. Completing this earns one lifetime happy hour priveleges. This particular individual had started only the day before, did 25 beers the first day, and was down to his last 5 or so. I stayed to watch the end of it. The man was in pain, but he pushed through and was an inspiration to us all. Or at least to me...
We grabbed some Late Nite Pie on our way home. Life was good. Except for that damned neck problem...
12/14
Cindy called me up to meet her, her roomate, and some of her roomate's friends up at Brian O'Neil's (which, like that Transformer that could assume many different forms, was that night in karaoke bar mode, rather than dance club mode or the seldom-seen irish pub mode). Eventually most of the group took off for dancing next door at the cesspool that is the Bronx, and I talked Cindy into going down to Ginger Man for some beer.
I could tell something was wrong. Things were awkward (well, moreso than usual), and she was being fairly cold to me and physically non-responsive. After some prodding, it eventually came back to the same old issues. Mostly, she was worried that we weren't compatible. Now, I often consider how compatible we are, but I don't make a big deal out of it. Either it works itself or it doesn't, and leading up to that discovery, there are many opportunities for fun.
But Cindy was more immediately concerned. We talked an hour or so, and then she walked out on me. I wandered on over to Woodrow's, where Will was conveniently working, and he listened to me bitch for a while. I'm pretty sure he decided that all of my problems, somehow, were due to Sex and the City which he claimed taught women that it was OK to be irrational and to have unrealistic expectaitons.
Cindy called a few minutes later, kind of apologized, but then we almost got into everything again and I told her we probably shouldn't do it while she was driving, so we called it a night. I hung out with Will for a while longer.
12/15
Cindy at some point, as a gesture of peace, asked me out for a drink, but I declined, as I had already made plans with Sabrina to go downtown to her law school end of term party. The party was at Opus, which I eventually realized was a place I had been before. Going to downtown clubs always puts me a little on edge, but, thankfully, it turns out that the LS group had the entire downstairs area reserved, complete with really cheap drinks (Valhalla-level prices for Ziegenbock, folks). I got pretty drunk, enjoyed hanging out with Sabrina's friends, actually managed to dance some (Sabrina doesn't give me much credit for this, which is exactly the reason that I tend to avoid these situations in the first place), took a turn on the stripper poll, and bought a girl a drink for the sake of practice (a method I've never actually tried before) only to be fairly quickly blown off and days later informed by Sabrina that she actually was attached. In the end, the fact that I tried was actually a victory.
Anyway, good times, all in all. Responsible girl that she is, Sabrina has pictures.
12/16
Friday started out particularly well when I discovered that the new Built to Spill album had leaked (in somewhat defaced form) and downloaded it.
Things with Cindy seemed to be back to normal, and, in fact, this turned out to be one of our better nights. I'd always wanted to go out for Vietnamese with her, since she should know her stuff, so we hit Mai's (one of the few times I've been there during "normal" hours) and I had some very nice pho. We made a wine run at Kroger (during which time I got an immensely entertaining drunk dial from David about his year-end bonus), and then headed over to her friend Hilary's place for a wine and cheese housewarming party. Good wine, good cheese, and it was good to meet some of her friends. Hilary turned out to be particularly cool.
Once the party started settling down, we dropped by the Mink in midtown for a little while to catch up with Dan et al.
12/17
The Museum of Fine Arts Houston (MFAH) currently has an exhibit featuring works by Warhol-cohort Basquiate, and has been doing a once a month Saturday night event where they open up the exhibit, sell booze, and have DJs or bands play. That night was DJ Peanutbutter Wolf, so Cindy and I went to check it out.
First off, it was an interesting group of people. The indie hipsters I expected, but there was also a different kind, a more fashionista sort of hipster, the type that I imagine New York hipsters to be like. And then some more mainstream people, too. It was actually a really nice crowd, and there were lots of intersting looking girls whom, had I been drunker and single-er, I might have ventured to have a chat with.
Regardless, though, we were still in a museum, distinct from a gallery which would let you enjoy your drinks while you looked at the exhibit (drinks were, understandably I suppose, limited to areas away from the art), or from a club or venue which is designed for people to go and hear/dance to music (it was way too bright, and the room was huge, with very high ceilings and many hard surfaces that turned the music into a wash of overlapping echoes). Great idea, but points off for the execution.
Still, I enjoyed the exhibit. His art was more lively and confrontational than the more peaceful stuff that I tend to prefer, but it was still interesting. I'd write more about it, but Becca might read this and I would just embarass myself.
Anyway, once we finished looking at the exhibit and had another round of drinks, we didn't stick around too long. Dan and Kristin had taken off. Once the spectacle of watching a girl who snuck her drink outside charm an old asian museum volunteer into letting her keep the drink ended, we called it an evening.
12/18
I often don't hear my phone on weekend afternoons when I have the stereo on and am deeply immersed in the process of rocking out. So was the case this Sunday afternoon. Around 5:00 I discovered that I had missed a call from BCM Lauren an hour previous.
She had just returned to town from a trip home, only to have her car die on her about half an hour from her place. At first she was looking for help pushing it (actually, just steering it, as she had planned on pushing, because she's a stand-up gal like that, not that I would have let her do that), but once I told her I had a good mechanic for her, she resolved instead to have it towed, and, since it was in a somewhat sketchy part of midtown, I instead was drafted to wait for the tow truck with her.
Except that, by the time we walked over there, we had missed the truck. She called back to request another one, and, this time, when they said an hour, they didn't mean half an hour, they meant two. We waited a while, breaking out some of the candy she had bought to take into lab and chatting, decided to return for my car, came back, and before long the tow truck showed up.
She was nice enough to take me out for dinner at the Front Porch afterwards. Good times, always.
The epilogue to this story is that it turns out that her car got fucked in a manner very similar to mine. Her timing belt had been incompetently installed, thus killing her engine. Lauren, I feel your pain.
Conclusion
Wow, that one took a while. Next one should be fairly short; Christmas has the potential to be long (at least where wedding activities are concerned), but hopefully I've got things moving along. One of these days I'll have time to get the parts I scrapped from the iMac onto eBay, write back that cute girl from myspace that sent me a message, and figure out why my PowerBook doesn't always like to start up or wake from sleep. One thing at a time...
12/12
It had been in the cards for a couple of weeks that we would go out in celebration of Jesse's finishing his qualifying exam. It was going to be a particularly eventful night because Char had preobtained permission for Graham to go out with us from his fiancé Kangela (Angela or Kennedy, depending on when you ask). Graham's outing was postponed until the next night, but we went ahead and began the festivities.
I met up with the Char, Jesse, and Leroy at Two Rows, as they were eating dinner. April and Rebecca were there to provide the feminine element, and the guys immediately set about getting them drunk. There was an extra air of immaturity that night thanks to the presence of the girls, which grated on my nerves.
Thankfully, I was just a few drinks away from being okay with it. We migrated to Woodrow's next, and along that path either Leroy or Char siced me on the other who was hitting on April. I forget who was doing what. Games of darts were played. The two ladies from the previous week showed up. Their names have long since left me, so we'll go with Italian and Latina. As the younger girls were still getting on my nerves, I hung out and talked with the two ethnics.
There was eventually a desire amongst the group to move over to someplace with liquor, so we migrated across the street to Baker Street. I somehow got conned into buying a round (8) of tequila shots. Drunkeness was soon achieved and good times were had. Closing time rolled around, we finished our whiskey or beer, and all of the sudden, I realized that Jesse was completely fucked up. As soon as we stepped outside onto the patio of Baker Street, Jesse vommitted in the bushes and then just sort of collapsed there. A concerned manager gave us a look; we assured him that Jesse was OK and that we would have him out of there in five minutes.
Leroy under one arm, myself under the other, we walked him out into the parking lot and loaded him up in the back of Char's truck.
12/13
Night number two came around, and we met at Char/Leroy/Will's before heading to midtown to the Front Porch. Jesse was still feeling awful, and could not be coaxed into a little hair of the dog to take the edge off. He had, apparently, spent most of the day collapsed in the shower, sipping gatorade, and trying to keep some chicken soup down. At some point, Latina joined us because she had fixated on Leroy.
We made a mistake in allowing Graham to come that near to his residence, and it was a tough sell to get him to continue with us. But continue we did, on to Brian O'Neil's, which had apparently decided to try to be a dance club for the night. The annoyance, combined with a tension headache in full swing, was overwhelming so I opted to take shelter outside.
Eventually Will and I wandered over to Woodrow's, where one of Will's friends was powering through the last of the "Big 50". The Big 50 demands that one, over the course of some period of time, consume 50 varieties of beer in a specific order, and have them marked off on a keychain. Completing this earns one lifetime happy hour priveleges. This particular individual had started only the day before, did 25 beers the first day, and was down to his last 5 or so. I stayed to watch the end of it. The man was in pain, but he pushed through and was an inspiration to us all. Or at least to me...
We grabbed some Late Nite Pie on our way home. Life was good. Except for that damned neck problem...
12/14
Cindy called me up to meet her, her roomate, and some of her roomate's friends up at Brian O'Neil's (which, like that Transformer that could assume many different forms, was that night in karaoke bar mode, rather than dance club mode or the seldom-seen irish pub mode). Eventually most of the group took off for dancing next door at the cesspool that is the Bronx, and I talked Cindy into going down to Ginger Man for some beer.
I could tell something was wrong. Things were awkward (well, moreso than usual), and she was being fairly cold to me and physically non-responsive. After some prodding, it eventually came back to the same old issues. Mostly, she was worried that we weren't compatible. Now, I often consider how compatible we are, but I don't make a big deal out of it. Either it works itself or it doesn't, and leading up to that discovery, there are many opportunities for fun.
But Cindy was more immediately concerned. We talked an hour or so, and then she walked out on me. I wandered on over to Woodrow's, where Will was conveniently working, and he listened to me bitch for a while. I'm pretty sure he decided that all of my problems, somehow, were due to Sex and the City which he claimed taught women that it was OK to be irrational and to have unrealistic expectaitons.
Cindy called a few minutes later, kind of apologized, but then we almost got into everything again and I told her we probably shouldn't do it while she was driving, so we called it a night. I hung out with Will for a while longer.
12/15
Cindy at some point, as a gesture of peace, asked me out for a drink, but I declined, as I had already made plans with Sabrina to go downtown to her law school end of term party. The party was at Opus, which I eventually realized was a place I had been before. Going to downtown clubs always puts me a little on edge, but, thankfully, it turns out that the LS group had the entire downstairs area reserved, complete with really cheap drinks (Valhalla-level prices for Ziegenbock, folks). I got pretty drunk, enjoyed hanging out with Sabrina's friends, actually managed to dance some (Sabrina doesn't give me much credit for this, which is exactly the reason that I tend to avoid these situations in the first place), took a turn on the stripper poll, and bought a girl a drink for the sake of practice (a method I've never actually tried before) only to be fairly quickly blown off and days later informed by Sabrina that she actually was attached. In the end, the fact that I tried was actually a victory.
Anyway, good times, all in all. Responsible girl that she is, Sabrina has pictures.
12/16
Friday started out particularly well when I discovered that the new Built to Spill album had leaked (in somewhat defaced form) and downloaded it.
Things with Cindy seemed to be back to normal, and, in fact, this turned out to be one of our better nights. I'd always wanted to go out for Vietnamese with her, since she should know her stuff, so we hit Mai's (one of the few times I've been there during "normal" hours) and I had some very nice pho. We made a wine run at Kroger (during which time I got an immensely entertaining drunk dial from David about his year-end bonus), and then headed over to her friend Hilary's place for a wine and cheese housewarming party. Good wine, good cheese, and it was good to meet some of her friends. Hilary turned out to be particularly cool.
Once the party started settling down, we dropped by the Mink in midtown for a little while to catch up with Dan et al.
12/17
The Museum of Fine Arts Houston (MFAH) currently has an exhibit featuring works by Warhol-cohort Basquiate, and has been doing a once a month Saturday night event where they open up the exhibit, sell booze, and have DJs or bands play. That night was DJ Peanutbutter Wolf, so Cindy and I went to check it out.
First off, it was an interesting group of people. The indie hipsters I expected, but there was also a different kind, a more fashionista sort of hipster, the type that I imagine New York hipsters to be like. And then some more mainstream people, too. It was actually a really nice crowd, and there were lots of intersting looking girls whom, had I been drunker and single-er, I might have ventured to have a chat with.
Regardless, though, we were still in a museum, distinct from a gallery which would let you enjoy your drinks while you looked at the exhibit (drinks were, understandably I suppose, limited to areas away from the art), or from a club or venue which is designed for people to go and hear/dance to music (it was way too bright, and the room was huge, with very high ceilings and many hard surfaces that turned the music into a wash of overlapping echoes). Great idea, but points off for the execution.
Still, I enjoyed the exhibit. His art was more lively and confrontational than the more peaceful stuff that I tend to prefer, but it was still interesting. I'd write more about it, but Becca might read this and I would just embarass myself.
Anyway, once we finished looking at the exhibit and had another round of drinks, we didn't stick around too long. Dan and Kristin had taken off. Once the spectacle of watching a girl who snuck her drink outside charm an old asian museum volunteer into letting her keep the drink ended, we called it an evening.
12/18
I often don't hear my phone on weekend afternoons when I have the stereo on and am deeply immersed in the process of rocking out. So was the case this Sunday afternoon. Around 5:00 I discovered that I had missed a call from BCM Lauren an hour previous.
She had just returned to town from a trip home, only to have her car die on her about half an hour from her place. At first she was looking for help pushing it (actually, just steering it, as she had planned on pushing, because she's a stand-up gal like that, not that I would have let her do that), but once I told her I had a good mechanic for her, she resolved instead to have it towed, and, since it was in a somewhat sketchy part of midtown, I instead was drafted to wait for the tow truck with her.
Except that, by the time we walked over there, we had missed the truck. She called back to request another one, and, this time, when they said an hour, they didn't mean half an hour, they meant two. We waited a while, breaking out some of the candy she had bought to take into lab and chatting, decided to return for my car, came back, and before long the tow truck showed up.
She was nice enough to take me out for dinner at the Front Porch afterwards. Good times, always.
The epilogue to this story is that it turns out that her car got fucked in a manner very similar to mine. Her timing belt had been incompetently installed, thus killing her engine. Lauren, I feel your pain.
Conclusion
Wow, that one took a while. Next one should be fairly short; Christmas has the potential to be long (at least where wedding activities are concerned), but hopefully I've got things moving along. One of these days I'll have time to get the parts I scrapped from the iMac onto eBay, write back that cute girl from myspace that sent me a message, and figure out why my PowerBook doesn't always like to start up or wake from sleep. One thing at a time...
posted by L. Maxwell Ward at 1:51 AM
