CafeChatNoir

Think very smart thoughts for my bartender buddy Wes tomorrow - he’s got an important exam and we can always use all the help we can get in these things. :)

Also, why is it that thoughts that will drive you to giggles only seem to happen when you really can’t laugh? I went up to the pub for a beer and some west coast baseball tonight to shut my brain off. I am contentedly sitting there watching the Yankees get crushed by the Angels, and I glance over at the guy to my left and all I can think is, “Dude, where is Snowy??” Had he been further down the bar, I could have burst into hysterical laughter, but nooooooooooo… Even worse when I realized that there was probably NO ONE in the place that would have had any idea what I was referring to - being the oldster sucks some days.

An acquaintance is in a family where all the cars are basically shared and such and everyone has a set of keys to all cars. Good if you misplace your keys or lock them in the car, or need to take the bigger vs. smaller car, but it does have it’s hazards.

It’s not at all uncommon for cars to be left overnight in the side parking lot of the pub on the weekends as folks pile into cabs or seek alternate transportation when leaving for the evening. This motley crew regroups the next morning to retrieve the autos left behind, quiet nods are exchanged and all are usually thinking the same things…

Why do the birds have to be so loud this morning?
Does the sun have to shine that brightly?
Will I ever learn that shots are not a good idea?

or

Um, where is my car?

Inquires were made in the pub, no towing operations have taken place. The morning crew says the car wasn’t there when they got in. We’re all quite sure the car was still there the night before. Finally a cell phone rings. “Oh, I needed your car so I came up and got it this morning and forgot to leave you a message…”

Quite the way to get your day started.

A little fashion and etiquette advice:

First, there is really nowhere outside a gym or 1986 where a muscle shirt is acceptable. Second, wandering around the pub and flexing and hovering around the women gets you absolutely nowhere - as a matter of fact, it quickly makes you the subject of ridicule. Third, when you take a seat at the bar and someone tells you that someone is in fact sitting there and you will need to vacate the seat, vacate the damn seat already and don’t try and walk off with someone else’s beer.

Following these easy tips can make the evening at the pub enjoyable for all. Not following these tips could very well result in someone taking a swing at you, or at minimum declaring, “Dude, you suck.”

and wireless and the ability (and temps) to post from my deck in the middle of the night.

It’s been a long week. Funny how being there for a friend who may be going through something big & scary can take as much, if not more, out of you than if you were going through it yourself. A professional chauffeur would have been much less affected by the entire situation that I was…

Went out for drinks tonight and made a new friend, in a matter of speaking. She’s a friend of a friend and apparently had a VERY rough week and as happens with those types of weeks, her regular Friday night drinks hit her like a Mac truck. Given that our mutual friend is a guy, and her gentleman friend is a guy (well, being a “gentleman friend” kinda says it) when it all came down on her like a ton of bricks, guess who was her escort to the ladies room for the remainder of the evening? Bless her heart, she was mortified (as we all are when such things occur) and I spent a lot of time reassuring her that we have ALL been there. I just finally flat out said, “Not to pry, but have you had some ugly emotionaln upheaval this week?” - and the answer was a resounding, ‘oh, hells yes’. Bingo - that type of thing will flatten you faster than any number of Jagerbombs will. (Been there, done that - puked my guts up at my granddad’s’ 80th b-day after a couple drinks and a toast that indicated he’d not be around much longer…)

She had arrangements to get home that were superseded by the bartender calling one of her daughters (of age) and I spent a couple minutes letting her daughter know that her Mom was mortified, and bless her, she said the same thing I had told her Mom - we’ve ALL been there. Yay for kids who understand but would otherwise never admit to their parents: that emotions + a few drinks = puking.

I did have someone ask me why I even speak w/ Cpt Jackass* anymore, as in his eyes, ‘he treats you like crap’ - to be honest, I couldn’t even tell you, but I find that I’m happy and I tend to look at the world differently when I’m around him - and I like it - so who knows. And frankly, he’s never asked me to change, which I can’t say of any other guy I’ve ever been involved with on any level.

And as I’m sitting here on my deck, I get a text from the Captain telling me how he just managed to pet a wild fox that wandered into his yard. Why am I the one that gets that news vs. anyone else on the planet? Well, hell, draw your own conclusions on that one, cause I am just going with jealousy over the fact that I have NEVER gotten to pet a fox around here.

* Someone that I’ve come to know & expect his ups & downs. For those of you that are familiar with the poem of “people come into your life for a reason/a season/a lifetime” - he probably only qualifies in the “reason” category, but it wouldn’t bother me if I was wrong on that one.

All I can say is that I really, REALLY hope that when Moxley goes out and starts chasing invisible squirrels at inappropriate times of the evening is that my neighbors can also hear me chasing after him trying to get him to shut the hell up and get back inside. I’m not the most experienced dog owner and I still can’t tell the difference between dog language of “I need to go out and hit the head” and “I want to go chase and bark at things that aren’t actually there.” The little cute-yet-obnoxious one is sitting at the back door yet again looking pathetic. Sorry bud, we’re not gonna anger the neighbors anymore than we may have already done. (However, I can tell you that there was another dog in the near vicinity outside at the same time, so it’s not only MY idiot dog chasing invisible animals in the middle of the night.)

And now for something completely different, and it really is, about a month ago I was introduced to a drink/shot/whatever - a Jagerbomb. Now, I’ve been offered Jagermeister shots before, and I can smell them from a mile away and I know better than to accept them. Fortunately, they have been sent in front of me by folks who were also more than willing to take them back and take care of them and substitute the drink of my choice. However, the Jagerbomb incident was one of those “you can’t turn it down” situations. So, I tried it. To be perfectly honest, I was thrilled that I got it down with no adverse effects. (For those wondering why I would accept a drink not even knowing for sure if it would end up in a contest for color and distance, well, it was just one of those things…I think we’ve all been there.)

What has surprised me is the fact that this particular indulgence has grown on me. It’s not something I’d have more than one of in a given evening if I could ever possibly avoid it, because in essence it is still a shot, despite the Red Bull addition, but there is something about it that makes me understand why these suckers are apparently quite popular. As far as the taste - it’s like Root Beer, slightly stale or fresh out of the bottle, depending on how it’s done. At my GD’s, they come pre-mixed, because they have no actual shot glasses… Something about they get broken (or possibly stolen) way too often, so they stopped buying new shot glasses and the bartenders just get to serve shots in regular glasses. Makes it difficult to do a drop & drink, but I didn’t know any different - and when they’re pre-mixed, they taste like Root Beer that is starting to go a tad on the flat side. The other evening, I had one at the after-hours bar (it’s not really “after hours”, but they’re open later than anyone in town, so…), and it was a “do it yourself” Jagerbomb. Feeling ever so slightly mortified at my lack of experience on the DIY side, I had to ask someone, “WTF do I do? Is it drop & drink or some ritual I’m not aware of?!” Nope, just d & d. Well, damn, now I get it. When you do a d & d on these, it’s like you’ve just cracked a cold bottle of Root Beer. That would explain the attraction to be sure.

So, the moral of the story is…wait, this is essentially about drinking, so OK, no real “moral” to it, cause well, the moral of that story would be “stick with coffee” or something along those lines, but I suppose it is “don’t be afraid to try something new and be prepared to not hate it.” If you’re ever offered a Jagerbomb and you like Root Beer, give it a go - it may surprise you. But stick with just one in an evening, cause I can see how this could get ugly very quickly.

*Jagermeister = a licorice liquor, somewhat similar to Sambuca, but a strange dark color, stronger smell and frankly, a little scary, especially considering that the bottle looks like a cough syrup remedy from pioneer days.
** Jagerbomb = Red Bull + shot of Jager dropped in it.

Honestly, I somehow thought I’d shed the “hey, if you’re not from around here, please talk to me!” vibe I had going on. Granted, tonight’s misanthrope was already sitting in the jackass seat* when I got there, but damn…if you’ve not been in the area for even 5 years, don’t start arguing with a gal over the museum offerings when she has been here 20+ years and you’re a Eastern European import via 17 years in Boston, and she is currently a HISTORY major… Trust me, when I tell you something about the museums, I do know of which I speak, and NO they are not all free here in DC, you fuckwit. Secondly, if you hear me utter the words, “You arrogant prick”, you can rest assured I will not be accepting any drink offers from you, and most surely will not be heading out for another after hours watering hole with you… But if you’re too busy spouting off how much you “know” about the DC area, I suppose you won’t get it. And for the record, only going into DC to visit “gentleman’s clubs”, does NOT count as going into the city on a regular basis, nor does it grant you any privilege to speak of the various and sundry museums the city has to offer.

In less contentious, yet equally serious news, I discovered this evening that I was the only Duke fan in the pub as I was the ONLY one quite literally standing on my seat as Duke attempted a Hail Mary Three Pointer with no time left on the overtime clock, and dammit, missed it and lost to UVA.

But in the “all crap has it’s silver lining” category, because of my freak friend, I discovered that GD’s is “selling” bar side seats for the Super Bowl. You buy a $25 gift card and you get a guaranteed bar seat for the game. Little bro will be inebriated w/his friends down in Blacksburg this weekend, and well hells bells, why not? I actually like the Colts enough to cheer for them, why not do it with a barside seat? (I even got to pick my spot.) Quite literally, I need to remember that I have to be there by 6PM Sunday… Little bro has offered to text and remind me, just in case. Hell, why not?

And apparently SkySports will be showing the Super Bowl this weekend, for folks that are into “American Football” - and they’re asking who will be doing halftime… Hell, I don’t even know that.

*The jackass seat: It’s an odd phenomenon, but it would seem that whomever sits at the far leftmost bar seat (as you walk in the bar) is a jackass. I’ve seen it happen too many times to write it off to coincidence, it is truly the jackass seat. There have been evenings where I have taken it solely for the purpose of defeating it’s karma and just been pleasant and very quiet all evening, but it has not erased the predestination of that particular barstool.

Well, the magician in the plaid pants either didn’t show, or hooked up early and went home… (Backstory) Though everyone did get a good giggle out of the posting speculating who it was written about, though we have no idea who would have posted it.

Gotta say, craigslist is always good for a laugh.

Someone knew I needed some entertainment. (Yes, I cruise craigslist for shits & giggles and the inevitable thread of two people thinking they’re talking to their lost love only to find out they have NO idea who the other person is.)

http://washingtondc.craigslist.org/nva/mis/266729026.html

Aww, snap, it’s been flagged. Funny how a copy has already been printed to give to the bartenders… (The title was “Meet ME tonight! at Glory Days in Burke, TONIGHT! - m4w - 39)

I’ll be dressed in plaid slacks, no underwear beneath (the cold makes me happy inside), polo sweater with my initials on the collar, and a fat smile on my face.

See you tonight! Are you the special one for 1/22/07? You’ll never know unless you come on out! No repeat visits please.

First, as much as I think of Benadryl as a miracle drug, it’s failed me this time around. Spent the vast bulk of yesterday in a antihistamine coma on the couch, with a seriously messed up ear. Went out last night cause I was feeling slightly less than death, but desperately needed to get out of the house. Repeated again today, and when the last B-dryl wore off around 5 with really no decent improvement, I went old school. Shot of whiskey (Jameson’s if you’re interested) followed by sitting in a hot bath til my forehead broke out in a sweat, followed by another shot for good measure. Less than 1 hour and I had a cleared out ear and was feeling right as rain. So, don’t discount your grandma’s “liquor + whatever” home remedies.

The other thing I discovered tonight is - I’m the bar freak. ;) (Well, depends on who you ask.)

At the moment, I have some deadlines - some self imposed, some hard. Townhouse ready for sale by 1/1. Estate totally distributed by 12/31. Grandma arriving on 12/20. Granted, “Grandma” is the only truly hard deadline, but the other items I really, REALLY want to have done by those dates. Each is a fairly large project in and of itself. Lots of little things to make the big things happen.

I have a steno pad that I (now) keep in my pocketbook. The front side is writing ideas. The backside is the to-do list from hell. I’ve discovered that when I am out for last call at GD’s, that seems to be when I have those random “OMG, gotta do X to accomplish Y” thoughts. I realized I just need to have the damn notebook with me so I can write things down so I don’t have to remember them. I will readily admit that this is in no small part to the fact that I am a control freak, and if I have shit written down, I feel like I am just slightly more in control. Hence, the steno pad is with me at all times so I can write shit down.

It has actually greatly reduced my stress on these three pain in the ass projects. Once it’s written down, I don’t have to try to remember it anymore, and I can just let it go (and given how much runs through my head at 100MPH, this is a good thing), and I have a snowball’s chance in hell of actually remembering where my keys are since that part of my brain isn’t occupied with something else. Most of the folks that know me at GD’s know I have all this nonsense going on and understand why I might be sitting there having a Guinness or Irish Coffee and watching SportsCenter and suddenly pull it out and write something down, and that some nights, I just get my drink and go through the list and cross things off and add to it. Tonight I ran into someone who does not know this, and he was greatly concerned about my mental state. It took the better part of an hour to convince this well meaning (and I will say, somewhat burned out) gentleman that I was really OK, and that writing things down as I think of them really does keep me from going over the edge, and that I really didn’t give a rat’s ass if it looked weird or not. I told him to check in with me around mid-January and he’d see that I was a fair amount more laid back. :)

I think what cracked me up the most about the entire encounter was that by time all was said and done, he was praising me for knowing what I needed to do to keep myself from losing my mind and that perhaps I didn’t really need to “talk to someone” (ie, seek professional help) after all. Cause yeah, I am really going to seek professional help because I am a list-maker and will tend to those lists whenever the mood strikes me… ;)

On a last minute, “OMG, I need red meat” note, I headed up to the pub for a bit this evening for a well earned bacon cheeseburger & a pint. I couldn’t help but notice that my fav bartender Wes seemed a tiny bit off, so I asked if all was OK.

“Yes, but I am bored OUT OF MY MIND.”

It was on the quiet side this evening, because it’s Memorial Day in DC - all the assholes have headed out of town, and the bikers coming in for Rolling Thunder don’t know about GD’s Burke (but from what I hear, have found GD’s C’ville.) The upside is that I got to chat more w/Wes, which is not normal cause he is usually working the other side of the bar, or he’s just insanely busy. I tried to come up with any entertainment that didn’t involve inciting a bar fight (bad) or getting Wes drunk (also bad) and came up empty…

And Edmonton won tonight!! WOOT! If the Caps can’t vie for the cup, I want a Canadian team to get it.

If you’re going to go to a bar and act like you’re single, you may want to not get busted by your wife in the process.

Look, you’re in a bar, yes, you’re probably going to try to pickup some chick, fine, whatever.

HOWEVER - If you spot a girl INTENTLY watching a hockey game, to the point where she is cussing a blue streak and questioning whether or not the parents of certain players (and refs) were married at the point of conception - do not, I repeat, do NOT speak to her about ANYTHING but said hockey game, because otherwise you’re just going to get the evil eye and get ignored.

And that is your PSA for today.

(And dammit, the Caps lost again.)

Edit: This is why Beezer was able to get the time of day out of me… He started with “Um, so, who are you pulling for?” “Penguins” (It was Penguins v. Flyers and I’d had a SHIT day and any hockey was better than none.) “If they lose, are you going to kick my ass?” (He’s a Flyers fan…)

The fact that everyone in the bar heard me scream “OH FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” as Ovechkin went backwards/headfirst into the boards and crumpled onto the ice this evening… Fortunately, he seems to be OK, to the point where he’s quite responsible for the Caps shootout win this evening.

Had a kickass day at work, and this finished it off quite nicely.

I really need a hockey icon. Done.

or…Why it’s good to be a regular at your hometown sports bar. When you walk in so you can catch the hockey game & dinner, before you can even find your bartender in the crowd, there is a pint of Guinness at your elbow, AND despite the fact that it is Sunday during NFL season, they get the Caps game on one of the TV’s for you. Even better, the Caps managed to pull it out in a shootout tonight.

Speaking of hometown bars, guys, hockey, and all that good stuff - gotta love stupid wingman tricks. Friday night I am at GD’s, decompressing from work, watching the Flyers/Penguins game, soon realizing there is only one other person on my side of the bar watching the game, and he’s standing next to me. (aka Blackhawk for identifications sake.) Soon, we’re talking, watching the game, he’s asking that I please not beat the crap out of him should his team win, (why is that an automatic assumption?) wondering how we’d not managed to run into each other there before as we’re both there often enough, general good bar/hockey/Friday night talk. He mentions how his roommate basically lives there - as in literally does not buy groceries as he is there that often and has leftovers. (At the time when Blackhawk pointed him out he looked vaguely familiar, but now I realize, oh hell yes, I’ve seen him there TONS.)

We’re snickering over the fact that the guy to our left has bought half a dozen fruity monstrosity shots for a group of girls to his left (who are saying WOOOO way too much), when the bartender comes over and says, “Um, FYI, you two have shots coming.” Next thing you know, we’ve got a pair of Goldschlager shots, courtesy of Blackhawk’s roommate… Now, let me tell you, that shit does NOT go well with Guinness. I’m honestly not sure it actually goes well with anything. Why his roomie thought this was an exceptionally good idea is beyond me, but me being me, I had to pop over and ask why he couldn’t have sent something that went with Guinness a little better… Roomie tells me he’ll get me something better when I can prove I can do a fireshot. Oh dear lord. I know a wingman’s job and I can see this from a mile away, and I know what a fireshot is and I don’t want to do one…and I say as much. Good natured posturing ensues, he accuses me of not knowing how to do a fireshot, I explain I certainly do, and that where I come from, this involves dropping a lit match in the shot glass, watching a lovely light display, and chugging. Seems I come from tougher stock than he does, as in his world it’s just dipping your finger in the glass and then setting your finger on fire, and then putting said fire out by licking the liquor off your finger. Well, hells bells, I can do that.

So, I go back over to Blackhawk, laughing my ass off, light my hand on fire 4 times with no adverse effects, the rest of my shot manages to get knocked over in the process (oh, damn!), and Blackhawk pawns his off on a third party. Wingman’s mission not so much accomplished. Ran into roomie tonight (he really does live there) - wanted to be sure he SAW me doing the fireshots - he said he did and was impressed that I’d not lit my entire arm on fire as he had done once… I don’t even want to know how you manage that.

OK, off to bed, another week in which to excel or some such nonsense.

So, the little voice in the back of my head that was trying to kill me yesterday relented after I got stuck at work for an extra two hours and changed it’s tune to “You’ve earned beer & hockey, get over to Glory Days” - so I did. Best line I’ve ever got there: “You like hockey AND guns? Where have you been all my life?” But I’ve made a new friend at GD’s, and under the age of 50 for once.

The Kona Ironman was today - the big one - all I can say is that you have got to be seriously hard core for that. The first place finisher came in with a time of 8 hours and 14 minutes. He did the marathon piece with a 6:40 mile. I can only imagine what it takes to be able to run a 6:40 mile for 26.2 miles AFTER you’ve done a 2.4 mile swim and then 112 miles on a bike.

Me? I went and ran 3.2 miles today with a 12m30s/mile pace - and was happy that I didn’t want to hurl at the end of it - a fair amount off from last weeks 10m54s pace, but I went a little further this time and felt much better. (I had the distance wrong on the last leg of last weeks run - total mileage was 2.94 vs. the 3.2 I’d thought - the first 2.1 miles in 20 minutes was accurate though, so I don’t have to put away the iPod, LOL.)

Someone started a thread on the training site about ultimate tri aspirations. My only aspirations for Kona are to have my butt parked on a beach there for a week or two sometime in my life. :) But honestly, assuming I survive the sprint tris next year, I’d like to be able to respectably complete an Olympic length at some point. wants me to qualify for Escape from Alcatraz so he has a reason to go visit San Francisco again.

I slept in obscenely late this morning. I think I’ll do it again tomorrow.

and we’ve still got another day of weekend after it! :-D

Went over to Glory Days last night cause I didn’t feel like cooking. Two guys come in & sit next to me, the one right next to me is bummed that they don’t have mashed potatoes, I mention the red potatoes are good… Next thing I know, I’m his best friend. Now, are these cute college boys? Nope. My new best buddy appears to have been rode hard & put away wet (I pegged him in his 40s, turns out he was younger than me) and seems to have lost at least a few brain cells through the mantra of better living through chemistry. Why are these the ones that want to chat me up?

Came home & fell asleep on the couch watching TV. Bad idea, as you end up contorting yourself to fit, and one of my legs fell asleep. I realized this as I jumped up off the couch to answer a ringing phone - but realized too late to be able to do anything about it. Put that foot down, knee buckled and I was on the floor. At least I didn’t hit my head on anything, and it didn’t take long to get the feeling back in my foot…

I’ve also been discovering the joys of living with a dog. They make you feel guilty every time you leave the house. Dinner last night? I got the look of “Why are you abandoning me? Don’t you love me anymore?”. Went out earlier today to get some breakfast & hit the grocery store. Got the look again. Had been thinking about going out again later to search for Micron pens cause Total Crafts was out, and the couple I’ve got have gone dry, but I don’t know if I can take the look again…