Andy and I went out for a drink tonight at Mock Crest Tavern. It’s this shady looking tavern on Lombard with a grip of video poker/lottery machines. We played foosball. I beat him twice. He thought he had it in the bag, but I pulled it out and hit him over the head with it. He never saw it coming.
This is quite unusual for us, niether of us are into the whole bar/drinking thing, but hey. Just got back. Yeah. So anyway. Man, smoking in bars truly needs to be banned here, not necessarily for my health but for my hair’s sake. I got my hair done on Wednesday and would prefer that it keep that nice salon smell instead of musty ass smoke stench. The second you walk into a bar the smell of smoke permeates your clothes, hair and soul in like two seconds flat.
Anyway, my new favorite drink(s) is/are a Tom Collins or a Mojito. Simply delicious. The alcohol goes down smoothly and is quite satisfying. Andy always orders a seven and seven. The bartender didn’t make it quite right tonight, but she did pack the whiskey pretty tight. Hey…that ryhmed.
Must be having one of those days, people messin’ up, keep calling my babe but he’s hangin’ up. Yay for Sahara Hotnights.
Did I mention that my dad got married this weekend to some woman that he only knew for like a week? That was insanity. I felt like I was having a huge panic attack pretty much the whole time. Those crazy kids. More on that later? Maybe.
Some guy told me yesterday as I was walking to meet Andy after work: “Smile! It can’t be that bad!” First of all, how the hell do you know? Maybe I just found out that I was dying of cancer! Never thought of that, did you? What’s that….you feel stupid and inadequate? And second, in the words of Bethany C. Morrow: I will slap the taste out of your mouth. Telling me to smile doesn’t usually have the desired effect. Or maybe you like self fulfilling prophecy: You assume since my teeth aren’t on display, that I’m angry and then you “cheer me up” thus making me angry. Brilliant (imagine me smiling as I say this).