onlysweetpea
Bluelighter
The most interesting of weekends, but Saturday night takes the cake. Recap includes, 7 mixed drinks, 3 beers, 2 clubs and a boy with a skateboard.
In discussions with Mr. Hallmark, I confided that I have yet to get some in 2004 and dear lord January's almost over!
I've done pretty well keeping myself out of the bargain bin and being direct with those who want in when I want out.
We met on the corner of 11th and Folsom, he was on his new skateboard he just rigged together. He had just taken a dive and jammed his finger. I had crashed at his place sometime in November that hazy night I got plastered, went home, got in bed, then got out of it cause the call for bad Sparky's Diner food was too great. His name is Josh...and Josh, is the epitome of what I'm initially attracted to. I told him about the birthday and the party and The Paradise Lounge. He wasn't too keen on the generic house music pumping out of the club, but said I should give him a call later if I wanted to hang. He was gonna skate.
After a good time exploring the club with Kevin and his friends, after doing a bang up job explaining to someone named Oscar that I had a boyfriend and lost him with the almighty "I gotta find the bathroom." line, I stumbled onto Folsom St. Josh had called and left a message.
"I'm at a better club. The Cat Club, 9th and Folsom. Meet me there."
It couldn't be too hard to find it, since I was on 11th and Folsom. One would think. My insides sloshed with Vanilla Stoli. Didn't I say I didn't handle vodka too well? Didn't I remember the night in college where I woke up next to the toilet having no recollection on how I got there?
I shuffled down the street, smiling and waving and making friends with people who were standing in line to get into other bars and clubs. It was 1 AM and the party was just getting started. It had been awhile since I'd been out on the town, especially sorta on my own. I had forgotten what it felt like to be a part of the nightlife.
I peddled my skirt down, down, down the street. 9th and Folsom. There was a bar there.
And it wasn't the Cat Club.
I leaned against the wall and interrupted people smoking outside.
"S'cuse me," I said. Trust me, trying NOT to slur at the point of no return, simply made me sound more retarded than drunk. "S'you know where the cat club is?"
After some confusing directions to go straight, I find it and I walk in. Ahhh...
Much more my crowd. A gregarious hybrid of hipster and dirty punk, they blasted that Jet song I like and I bounced my way to the back room.
Then I bounced my drunk way back to the front room.
Then I skipped my way to the bathroom. "No Josh, no Josh, no Josh, " my mind buzzed and sang in a sing song manner. I contemplated one more drink.
Upon bouncing back into the front room I noticed a sign on the bar:
PABST BLUE RIBBON, $1.00!! ALL NIGHT!!
Oh. One more drink couldn't hurt.
Then I see him. He sees me. I couldn't quite feel my feet and it just seemed like I floated and kept going, walking straight into his chest, and it's like he knew and had opened his arms just in time to hug me hello and keep me from falling at the same time. The arms lingered longer than I expected so I went with it and wrapped mine around his torso. Tall, I thought. He's soooo tall.
He had already bought me 2 PBR's and they were gone in record time.
We were back at his place before I knew it. The familiar sight of his studio... I could not help but think as I scanned his studio apartment, that if I stuck to having a 'type' he'd be it. 3 skateboards on a rack on the wall, overflowing ashtrays, a pack of Lucky Strikes, several Absinthe bottles scattered on top of a crowded shelving unit, a poster of James Dean in the kitchen, good hair product in the bathroom and a pair of monstrous combat boots.
I think to myself that most girls my age are over the rebel rouser and looking for the well meaning middle management.
I've always been a couple of years behind on the whole 'growing up' thing, though.
He popped in a movie called "Equilibrium" which was sorta based on 1984 by George Orwell. Drunk and still a bit stoned, I watched the movie.
He has the typical guy coffee table, scattered change, empty cigarette packs, crushed beer cans. The place simply poured of stuff. He had so many little pieces of things everywhere. At one point during the movie, I look over at an innocuous strangely shaped shadow on the table. I ignore it and continue watching the movie, but my thoughts wander to it and I look at it again. I. Just. Can't. Stop. Staring.
I lean in closer to look at it.
"Is that...meat?" I ask finally.
He sheepishly picked it up and stuffed it into an empty beer can.
"Yes," he answered. "It's-It was jerky."
For no reason, Meat, especially Jerky, is the funniest thing in the world to me. I run into random pieces of meat in the most random of places, and it never fails to have me in tears. I found meat on the floor near Check-In at Logan Airport with Jesse and Fred. Someone had trailed pork loin into Tham's bathroom at a party last December and I remember sitting on the toilet looking at the meat...uncontrollably laughing. I was laughing so hard I couldn't even pee.
So of course I laughed. I sat and laughed long and hard enough that he had to pause the movie and ask me if I was finished making fun of him yet.
"You don't understand," I gasped for breath. "It's not you, it's meat."
There are certain things you just can't explain to people because you can't justify its hilarity even to yourself.
It's a good sign he didn't kick me out after that.
And I'm glad that he didn't.
In discussions with Mr. Hallmark, I confided that I have yet to get some in 2004 and dear lord January's almost over!
I've done pretty well keeping myself out of the bargain bin and being direct with those who want in when I want out.
We met on the corner of 11th and Folsom, he was on his new skateboard he just rigged together. He had just taken a dive and jammed his finger. I had crashed at his place sometime in November that hazy night I got plastered, went home, got in bed, then got out of it cause the call for bad Sparky's Diner food was too great. His name is Josh...and Josh, is the epitome of what I'm initially attracted to. I told him about the birthday and the party and The Paradise Lounge. He wasn't too keen on the generic house music pumping out of the club, but said I should give him a call later if I wanted to hang. He was gonna skate.
After a good time exploring the club with Kevin and his friends, after doing a bang up job explaining to someone named Oscar that I had a boyfriend and lost him with the almighty "I gotta find the bathroom." line, I stumbled onto Folsom St. Josh had called and left a message.
"I'm at a better club. The Cat Club, 9th and Folsom. Meet me there."
It couldn't be too hard to find it, since I was on 11th and Folsom. One would think. My insides sloshed with Vanilla Stoli. Didn't I say I didn't handle vodka too well? Didn't I remember the night in college where I woke up next to the toilet having no recollection on how I got there?
I shuffled down the street, smiling and waving and making friends with people who were standing in line to get into other bars and clubs. It was 1 AM and the party was just getting started. It had been awhile since I'd been out on the town, especially sorta on my own. I had forgotten what it felt like to be a part of the nightlife.
I peddled my skirt down, down, down the street. 9th and Folsom. There was a bar there.
And it wasn't the Cat Club.
I leaned against the wall and interrupted people smoking outside.
"S'cuse me," I said. Trust me, trying NOT to slur at the point of no return, simply made me sound more retarded than drunk. "S'you know where the cat club is?"
After some confusing directions to go straight, I find it and I walk in. Ahhh...
Much more my crowd. A gregarious hybrid of hipster and dirty punk, they blasted that Jet song I like and I bounced my way to the back room.
Then I bounced my drunk way back to the front room.
Then I skipped my way to the bathroom. "No Josh, no Josh, no Josh, " my mind buzzed and sang in a sing song manner. I contemplated one more drink.
Upon bouncing back into the front room I noticed a sign on the bar:
PABST BLUE RIBBON, $1.00!! ALL NIGHT!!
Oh. One more drink couldn't hurt.
Then I see him. He sees me. I couldn't quite feel my feet and it just seemed like I floated and kept going, walking straight into his chest, and it's like he knew and had opened his arms just in time to hug me hello and keep me from falling at the same time. The arms lingered longer than I expected so I went with it and wrapped mine around his torso. Tall, I thought. He's soooo tall.
He had already bought me 2 PBR's and they were gone in record time.
We were back at his place before I knew it. The familiar sight of his studio... I could not help but think as I scanned his studio apartment, that if I stuck to having a 'type' he'd be it. 3 skateboards on a rack on the wall, overflowing ashtrays, a pack of Lucky Strikes, several Absinthe bottles scattered on top of a crowded shelving unit, a poster of James Dean in the kitchen, good hair product in the bathroom and a pair of monstrous combat boots.
I think to myself that most girls my age are over the rebel rouser and looking for the well meaning middle management.
I've always been a couple of years behind on the whole 'growing up' thing, though.
He popped in a movie called "Equilibrium" which was sorta based on 1984 by George Orwell. Drunk and still a bit stoned, I watched the movie.
He has the typical guy coffee table, scattered change, empty cigarette packs, crushed beer cans. The place simply poured of stuff. He had so many little pieces of things everywhere. At one point during the movie, I look over at an innocuous strangely shaped shadow on the table. I ignore it and continue watching the movie, but my thoughts wander to it and I look at it again. I. Just. Can't. Stop. Staring.
I lean in closer to look at it.
"Is that...meat?" I ask finally.
He sheepishly picked it up and stuffed it into an empty beer can.
"Yes," he answered. "It's-It was jerky."
For no reason, Meat, especially Jerky, is the funniest thing in the world to me. I run into random pieces of meat in the most random of places, and it never fails to have me in tears. I found meat on the floor near Check-In at Logan Airport with Jesse and Fred. Someone had trailed pork loin into Tham's bathroom at a party last December and I remember sitting on the toilet looking at the meat...uncontrollably laughing. I was laughing so hard I couldn't even pee.
So of course I laughed. I sat and laughed long and hard enough that he had to pause the movie and ask me if I was finished making fun of him yet.
"You don't understand," I gasped for breath. "It's not you, it's meat."
There are certain things you just can't explain to people because you can't justify its hilarity even to yourself.
It's a good sign he didn't kick me out after that.
And I'm glad that he didn't.
