You know, when it rains, it pours.
This past weekend my hound got really sick. She has an infection in her abdomen and the vets aren't sure what's causing it. They put her on meds and IV, and she was improving the past few days, but she started getting ill again this morning so they are doing surgery on her today. I'm very attached to the dog and haven't been myself since I dropped her off at the vet Saturday.
Last night I met up with ME for the first time in a week. She been aloof lately, though I understand why. We hung out last night and I spent the evening at her house. This morning we were hanging out when I got a call from my vet saying the hound wasn't doing well, so I told her I had to go and stop by to see her and pay for her surgery before I went to work. She got angry with me and said the dog is my highest priority. I agreed, the dog is my highest priority. I said "Girls come and go, but the dog will always be #1." Then I walked out. Fairly sure that constitutes a breakup.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Phone
I don't understand people who like to talk on the phone. ME is a talker. She likes to call even if she doesn't have something to talk about. This makes for very awkward stretches of silence with me holding a phone to my ear, waiting for her to make a point.
This happens often.
Take Wednesday for instance. I woke up at 4:30am, flew to Charlotte, worked a long day, then drove two and a half hours to Raleigh. As I was getting off the highway the phone rang and I knew exactly what was coming. It was ME.
I clicked answer and said hello.
"Oh, hi baby, what are you doing?"
"I'm just pulled into Raleigh, I'm getting off the highway. What're you up to?"
"Nothing, reading?"
So that about covers it, right? She asked me what I was doing, I told her, then asked what she was doing, and she told me. Am I obligated to ask another pointless question? I just saw her the night before, we spent three hours together. We talked about work, a vacation we are thinking of taking, an interview I had this week, my trip, her kid, how the AC in her car was broken, and that I was considering painting my house dark grey. Why do we have to talk everyday? Send me a text to say hello, or I'll send her one. You fucking know what I'm doing. I told you last night.
Continued long silence. All those thoughts scratched through my head like dirty fingernails on a chalkboard while she sat in silence on the other end of the line.
She said,
"You still there?"
"Yes, what's up?"
"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to say hello"
So she already said hello. Am I supposed to entertain her at this point? Ask her the blue questions from Trivial Pursuit? What? At least have more than one thing planned to say if you're going to call. I don't have shit. I was focusing all my attention on driving and navigating, which, incidentally, I can't do any longer because I'm now talking on my iPhone and can't see the map any longer.
"I gotta run, then, I'm getting lost"
"OK, call me later"
WHY!?!
I do see why ME likes to talk on the phone all day and I don't. Her job consists of reading and doing research. She has a quiet career. I'm on the phone all day. I scream and yell at movers, and electricians, and contractors, and architects for a living. Between my desk line, my work cell, and my personal cell, my office rings constantly. When I get home the last thing I want to do is talk on the phone. Especially if it's about nothing.
I was in a bad mood Wednesday. It was a rough day. But when I got off the phone with ME I had to really talk myself out of calling her right back and breaking up with her. I had a mini breakdown right there in I-40. I think we're too different to be together.
This happens often.
Take Wednesday for instance. I woke up at 4:30am, flew to Charlotte, worked a long day, then drove two and a half hours to Raleigh. As I was getting off the highway the phone rang and I knew exactly what was coming. It was ME.
I clicked answer and said hello.
"Oh, hi baby, what are you doing?"
"I'm just pulled into Raleigh, I'm getting off the highway. What're you up to?"
"Nothing, reading?"
So that about covers it, right? She asked me what I was doing, I told her, then asked what she was doing, and she told me. Am I obligated to ask another pointless question? I just saw her the night before, we spent three hours together. We talked about work, a vacation we are thinking of taking, an interview I had this week, my trip, her kid, how the AC in her car was broken, and that I was considering painting my house dark grey. Why do we have to talk everyday? Send me a text to say hello, or I'll send her one. You fucking know what I'm doing. I told you last night.
Continued long silence. All those thoughts scratched through my head like dirty fingernails on a chalkboard while she sat in silence on the other end of the line.
She said,
"You still there?"
"Yes, what's up?"
"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to say hello"
So she already said hello. Am I supposed to entertain her at this point? Ask her the blue questions from Trivial Pursuit? What? At least have more than one thing planned to say if you're going to call. I don't have shit. I was focusing all my attention on driving and navigating, which, incidentally, I can't do any longer because I'm now talking on my iPhone and can't see the map any longer.
"I gotta run, then, I'm getting lost"
"OK, call me later"
WHY!?!
I do see why ME likes to talk on the phone all day and I don't. Her job consists of reading and doing research. She has a quiet career. I'm on the phone all day. I scream and yell at movers, and electricians, and contractors, and architects for a living. Between my desk line, my work cell, and my personal cell, my office rings constantly. When I get home the last thing I want to do is talk on the phone. Especially if it's about nothing.
I was in a bad mood Wednesday. It was a rough day. But when I got off the phone with ME I had to really talk myself out of calling her right back and breaking up with her. I had a mini breakdown right there in I-40. I think we're too different to be together.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Car Bombs
Brain and liver hurt today. Synapses not firing properly. Damn you Dr. Jellyfingers. Damn you handle of Stoli. Damn you 8th Street bars with your fancy Car Bomb delights. Per usual, D-ron, AKA Dr. Jellyfingers, my college buddy and drinking cohort, the guy who burned my eyebrow off while I slept two years ago, almost put an end to another one of my relationships. ME is so pissed at me. I deserve it.
I will preface the following story by saying that if an event; a date, appointment, or activity, isn't in my Outlook calendar it's not real. Every thing I need to remember goes into my calendar. Birthdays, doctor appointments, trips, meetings, dinners, EVERYTHING. If it's not in there, there is literally no chance I'm going to remember it.
I was in Massachusetts last week for work. I drove up so I could swing by and visit a few friends the weekend before, then made the long drove home Friday morning. While I was driving I remembered that I had a voicemail from D-ron that I hadn't listened to from the night before and played it on speakerphone in the car. He was drunk, and the message was mostly incoherent mumbling, but I did hear something about him being on his way to DC from Michigan, and that he slept in his car in a Walmart parking lot the night before.
When the message was over I checked my calendar on my phone and didn't see anything about D-ron visiting. Four seconds later I received a text from ME saying she couldn't wait to get together, and asked if we could stay in and cook dinner and watch a movie "before our trip". Three seconds after that I received the following from D-ron "Jellyfingers on premises". It was 11:52am and he wanted to know if I had a key hidden and what my alarm code was.
None of this was good.
I checked my calendar and it was blank. Nothing on tap for the weekend.
Backtracking a bit, I had also neglected to put a note in my calendar reminding me that my sister was going to Europe for ten days for some R&R. She texted me her flight information from Dulles an hour before she took off Thursday, which was a surprise to me. Again, it wasn't in Outlook so if she did tell me, it went in one ear and right out the other. I had a vague recollection of her saying she was going away, mostly because I bought her part of her flight for her birthday, but there were no dates attached to that faint memory.
While I cursed myself for being so lax with my reminders, I got another text from D-ron "Where is alcohol?". I wrote back "Big bottle tequila in freezer", then wondered what I was going to do about ME. I was away all week, I have another trip scheduled for the following week, and I had one very drunk friend in my kitchen with high aspirations of laying waste to DC. These were not compatible agendas.
The phone rang, it was ME, I let it go to voicemail so I could come up with a plan. D-ron wrote back "Note to self, NN out of margarita mix". I'm not sure how much time passed, but I wondered how it was possible he drank half a bottle of mix so quickly? I pictured him on my couch, in his underwear, racking up heavy fees on my pay-per-view account, with tequila and salt everywhere. I drove faster.
A little while later I stopped for gas and listened to ME's message. In it she said something about a bottle of tequila. When I checked my phone I saw that I had accidentally sent ME the text about the bottle of tequila in the freezer instead of Jellyfingers. That certainly wasn't going to help matters with her. I bit the bullet and called her back. I won't go into the gory details, but apparently at some point last month I had agreed to go to some "quaint little town in southern Virginia" this weekend with her, and that was obviously not in the cards any longer. I told ME I would call her when I got home so we could sort this out. I think it goes without saying that she wasn't happy.
When I finally got home at 5pm D-ron's car was in my tenant's parking space, his shit was everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. Repeated calls to him went unreturned. He was undoubtedly at a bar.
I called ME and it went right to voicemail.
Have you ever seen that carnival game where a red and blue marble race around a giant funnel, and people bet which one will go down the hole first? The suspense is terrific even though you know that eventually both will go down the tube. That is what I felt like Friday. D-ron was one marble, ME was the other, and I was just watching them spin around that funnel.
At about 6pm D-ron walked in my back gate pushing his bike. He was far drunker than I expected and I have no idea how he rode. Fuck it. It was good to see him, ME wasn't calling me back, so I threw on some clothes and we walked down to the Pour House to shoot pool and have some cocktails.
Here is how our night went. I kept track because I knew it was going to be a marathon.
Pour House: 4 beers
Hawk and Dove: 1 beer, sandwiches
18th Amendment Basement: 1 beer and our first Irish Car Bomb.
- Note: While shooting pool in basement D-ron took long piss on floor, can't believe bartender didn't notice...he wasn't subtle.
Molly Malones: 2 beers, two Car Bombs
Matchbox: Too crowded, walked in then left.
Phase I: Denied entry. Not lesbian enough.
Tune Inn: 1 beer
- Outside CVS after leaving bar D-ron stopped and screamed "Batistuta! Goooaaaal!" over and over at no one in particular. Received standing ovation from large crowd.
Union Pub: 1 beer, 1 car bomb
- Ejected after D-ron made joke about raping a male patron.
Irish Times: 1 beer
Dubliner: 1 beer
- Ejected for comment I didn't hear.
When we were thrown out of the Dubliner at midnight I was ready to call it an evening. I was very drunk, but Dr. Jellyfingers was in full effect and was having none of my calls to go home. Somehow, he got it in his head that he wanted to go to St. Ex, which was out of the question because it would require a cab ride, and I knew how that ride was going to go given the Dr.'s state. We would be thrown out of the car within 1 block. I said "No mas, I'm going home", then turned and starting walking up Mass Ave. I thought D-ron was behind me, but when I got to the far side of Union Station I realized I couldn't hear him shuffling behind me any longer. When I turned around he was no where in site. There was nothing to do but go to bed.
At 3:30am D-ron walked in the back door of my house mumbling about Papa Johns and some "rave" he went to. I suspect he want to one of those cheesy clubs near the convention center but he doesn't remember. Actually, he didn't remember anything after the Pour House.
Saturday morning I called ME again. Still no answer. D-ron and I filled a flask with Vodka and went to the Georgetown pool for a few hours. I can't even begin to explain how many gorgeous women were there. If you're a single guy you need to go.
When we got back from the pool D-ron made VERY strong Vodka drinks and we sat on my deck shooting the shit for about an hour. At 5pm ME called and laced into me. She really gave me both guns, and I deserved it. I fucked up. I completely forgot about saying I'd go away. I forgot D-ron was coming to town. I admit it and let her say her peace. I could tell she was on the verge of snapping, so when she asked me to come over to her place to talk I decided I should.
I spent a few hours at ME's place. I brought flowers. We talked for 20 minutes then had make-up sex for two hours. Worked out pretty well, actually. She's still mad at me, but I'll take her away for a weekend and that will be the end of it.
When I got home from ME's D-ron had drank a truly obscene amount of Vodka. We had chipped away at a new handle over the past 24 hours, but I was astonished to see that there was only about a quarter of it left. D-ron saw me hold the bottle up to the light and chucked. If I didn't know him I'd think he spilled it.
We had another cocktail on the deck then poured roadies and took a cab to Asylum in Adam's Morgan. We had two 22oz PBR's while shooting pool before we thought it would be a good idea to start playing for rounds of beers and Car Bombs. By the time we left we had 4 beers and three Bombs each. D-ron was a disaster again.
After Asylum we went to Madam's Organ. There, we chatted up two Ecuadorian girls and invited them to join us at Rumba for Mojitos and some Salsa dancing. One of the girls was really cute. She was short with dark hair and dark skin, and a great body. The other girls was a dead-on ringer for Frida Kahlo, which is to say not attractive. D-ron danced with Frida and I grabbed the little one.
Things got pretty hazy for me at this point. We danced for a long time, then I went to the men's room and on my way back started talking with some other girl. By the time I broke away from her D-ron was gone and Ecuador was dancing with some other dude. It was already last call, so I walked outside to try and find D-ron. The bars had all let out, so the streets were a fucking mess. There were drunk kids all over the place pushing each other, and the cops were not enjoying the scene. I grabbed a jumbo slice and got off 18th street as quickly as possible. D-ron didn't have his phone on him, so there was no use calling.
I was walking around jamming a piping hot slice of pizza in my face half-trying to catch a cab, but I was mostly focusing on the pizza. When the pizza was gone, though, and I put an honest effort into hailing a cab, I realized that was going to be a tough call at 3am on U Street. I walked down U Street for a long time with this really cute girl right behind me. While we waited to cross a street she caught up with me and I said "Are you following me?" She laughed and said no. We walked and talked for a few more blocks then I asked he where she was going. The girl was walking to Georgia Ave, where she was then going to turn left and walk up to her house in northern Columbia Heights, I forget the exact street. I said "That's not a great neighborhood, you should take a cab". She said "I would, but they're expensive...I don't mind walking." I felt really badly for her, I have three sisters and I wouldn't want them walking in that area anytime, but especially not at 3:30am. When we got to Georgia Ave I pulled a $20 out of my pocket and handed it to her. I said "Get a cab". I had spent over a $150 at the bars that night, but this seemed like a much better use of cash.
I ended up walking all the way to North Capital Street before I was able to get a cab. I'm not going to lie, I was a little nervous myself walking around there after so many drinks.
I finally got home at 4am. D-ron wasn't there, but I was too tired to care. I left the door unlocked and went to bed.
At 8:30 this morning I heard lots of noise in the back hall. I walked out and saw D-ron fully dressed and said "Why are you up so early?". He said "Up? I just got home." I said "Did you hook up?", and he laughed and said "Uhh, no. I slept in the bushes of a house next to St. Ex". Apparently when I went to the bathroom at Rumba he thought I ditched him, so he took a cab to St. Ex. They probably didn't let him in, or at least they shouldn't have. In either case, he was too hammered to get a cab at the end of the night so he climbed under some bushes and passed out. At 8am he woke up, crawled out of the bushes, and took a cab back to my place.
It's important to indulge in this type of behavior once in a while.
I will preface the following story by saying that if an event; a date, appointment, or activity, isn't in my Outlook calendar it's not real. Every thing I need to remember goes into my calendar. Birthdays, doctor appointments, trips, meetings, dinners, EVERYTHING. If it's not in there, there is literally no chance I'm going to remember it.
I was in Massachusetts last week for work. I drove up so I could swing by and visit a few friends the weekend before, then made the long drove home Friday morning. While I was driving I remembered that I had a voicemail from D-ron that I hadn't listened to from the night before and played it on speakerphone in the car. He was drunk, and the message was mostly incoherent mumbling, but I did hear something about him being on his way to DC from Michigan, and that he slept in his car in a Walmart parking lot the night before.
When the message was over I checked my calendar on my phone and didn't see anything about D-ron visiting. Four seconds later I received a text from ME saying she couldn't wait to get together, and asked if we could stay in and cook dinner and watch a movie "before our trip". Three seconds after that I received the following from D-ron "Jellyfingers on premises". It was 11:52am and he wanted to know if I had a key hidden and what my alarm code was.
None of this was good.
I checked my calendar and it was blank. Nothing on tap for the weekend.
Backtracking a bit, I had also neglected to put a note in my calendar reminding me that my sister was going to Europe for ten days for some R&R. She texted me her flight information from Dulles an hour before she took off Thursday, which was a surprise to me. Again, it wasn't in Outlook so if she did tell me, it went in one ear and right out the other. I had a vague recollection of her saying she was going away, mostly because I bought her part of her flight for her birthday, but there were no dates attached to that faint memory.
While I cursed myself for being so lax with my reminders, I got another text from D-ron "Where is alcohol?". I wrote back "Big bottle tequila in freezer", then wondered what I was going to do about ME. I was away all week, I have another trip scheduled for the following week, and I had one very drunk friend in my kitchen with high aspirations of laying waste to DC. These were not compatible agendas.
The phone rang, it was ME, I let it go to voicemail so I could come up with a plan. D-ron wrote back "Note to self, NN out of margarita mix". I'm not sure how much time passed, but I wondered how it was possible he drank half a bottle of mix so quickly? I pictured him on my couch, in his underwear, racking up heavy fees on my pay-per-view account, with tequila and salt everywhere. I drove faster.
A little while later I stopped for gas and listened to ME's message. In it she said something about a bottle of tequila. When I checked my phone I saw that I had accidentally sent ME the text about the bottle of tequila in the freezer instead of Jellyfingers. That certainly wasn't going to help matters with her. I bit the bullet and called her back. I won't go into the gory details, but apparently at some point last month I had agreed to go to some "quaint little town in southern Virginia" this weekend with her, and that was obviously not in the cards any longer. I told ME I would call her when I got home so we could sort this out. I think it goes without saying that she wasn't happy.
When I finally got home at 5pm D-ron's car was in my tenant's parking space, his shit was everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. Repeated calls to him went unreturned. He was undoubtedly at a bar.
I called ME and it went right to voicemail.
Have you ever seen that carnival game where a red and blue marble race around a giant funnel, and people bet which one will go down the hole first? The suspense is terrific even though you know that eventually both will go down the tube. That is what I felt like Friday. D-ron was one marble, ME was the other, and I was just watching them spin around that funnel.
At about 6pm D-ron walked in my back gate pushing his bike. He was far drunker than I expected and I have no idea how he rode. Fuck it. It was good to see him, ME wasn't calling me back, so I threw on some clothes and we walked down to the Pour House to shoot pool and have some cocktails.
Here is how our night went. I kept track because I knew it was going to be a marathon.
Pour House: 4 beers
Hawk and Dove: 1 beer, sandwiches
18th Amendment Basement: 1 beer and our first Irish Car Bomb.
- Note: While shooting pool in basement D-ron took long piss on floor, can't believe bartender didn't notice...he wasn't subtle.
Molly Malones: 2 beers, two Car Bombs
Matchbox: Too crowded, walked in then left.
Phase I: Denied entry. Not lesbian enough.
Tune Inn: 1 beer
- Outside CVS after leaving bar D-ron stopped and screamed "Batistuta! Goooaaaal!" over and over at no one in particular. Received standing ovation from large crowd.
Union Pub: 1 beer, 1 car bomb
- Ejected after D-ron made joke about raping a male patron.
Irish Times: 1 beer
Dubliner: 1 beer
- Ejected for comment I didn't hear.
When we were thrown out of the Dubliner at midnight I was ready to call it an evening. I was very drunk, but Dr. Jellyfingers was in full effect and was having none of my calls to go home. Somehow, he got it in his head that he wanted to go to St. Ex, which was out of the question because it would require a cab ride, and I knew how that ride was going to go given the Dr.'s state. We would be thrown out of the car within 1 block. I said "No mas, I'm going home", then turned and starting walking up Mass Ave. I thought D-ron was behind me, but when I got to the far side of Union Station I realized I couldn't hear him shuffling behind me any longer. When I turned around he was no where in site. There was nothing to do but go to bed.
At 3:30am D-ron walked in the back door of my house mumbling about Papa Johns and some "rave" he went to. I suspect he want to one of those cheesy clubs near the convention center but he doesn't remember. Actually, he didn't remember anything after the Pour House.
Saturday morning I called ME again. Still no answer. D-ron and I filled a flask with Vodka and went to the Georgetown pool for a few hours. I can't even begin to explain how many gorgeous women were there. If you're a single guy you need to go.
When we got back from the pool D-ron made VERY strong Vodka drinks and we sat on my deck shooting the shit for about an hour. At 5pm ME called and laced into me. She really gave me both guns, and I deserved it. I fucked up. I completely forgot about saying I'd go away. I forgot D-ron was coming to town. I admit it and let her say her peace. I could tell she was on the verge of snapping, so when she asked me to come over to her place to talk I decided I should.
I spent a few hours at ME's place. I brought flowers. We talked for 20 minutes then had make-up sex for two hours. Worked out pretty well, actually. She's still mad at me, but I'll take her away for a weekend and that will be the end of it.
When I got home from ME's D-ron had drank a truly obscene amount of Vodka. We had chipped away at a new handle over the past 24 hours, but I was astonished to see that there was only about a quarter of it left. D-ron saw me hold the bottle up to the light and chucked. If I didn't know him I'd think he spilled it.
We had another cocktail on the deck then poured roadies and took a cab to Asylum in Adam's Morgan. We had two 22oz PBR's while shooting pool before we thought it would be a good idea to start playing for rounds of beers and Car Bombs. By the time we left we had 4 beers and three Bombs each. D-ron was a disaster again.
After Asylum we went to Madam's Organ. There, we chatted up two Ecuadorian girls and invited them to join us at Rumba for Mojitos and some Salsa dancing. One of the girls was really cute. She was short with dark hair and dark skin, and a great body. The other girls was a dead-on ringer for Frida Kahlo, which is to say not attractive. D-ron danced with Frida and I grabbed the little one.
Things got pretty hazy for me at this point. We danced for a long time, then I went to the men's room and on my way back started talking with some other girl. By the time I broke away from her D-ron was gone and Ecuador was dancing with some other dude. It was already last call, so I walked outside to try and find D-ron. The bars had all let out, so the streets were a fucking mess. There were drunk kids all over the place pushing each other, and the cops were not enjoying the scene. I grabbed a jumbo slice and got off 18th street as quickly as possible. D-ron didn't have his phone on him, so there was no use calling.
I was walking around jamming a piping hot slice of pizza in my face half-trying to catch a cab, but I was mostly focusing on the pizza. When the pizza was gone, though, and I put an honest effort into hailing a cab, I realized that was going to be a tough call at 3am on U Street. I walked down U Street for a long time with this really cute girl right behind me. While we waited to cross a street she caught up with me and I said "Are you following me?" She laughed and said no. We walked and talked for a few more blocks then I asked he where she was going. The girl was walking to Georgia Ave, where she was then going to turn left and walk up to her house in northern Columbia Heights, I forget the exact street. I said "That's not a great neighborhood, you should take a cab". She said "I would, but they're expensive...I don't mind walking." I felt really badly for her, I have three sisters and I wouldn't want them walking in that area anytime, but especially not at 3:30am. When we got to Georgia Ave I pulled a $20 out of my pocket and handed it to her. I said "Get a cab". I had spent over a $150 at the bars that night, but this seemed like a much better use of cash.
I ended up walking all the way to North Capital Street before I was able to get a cab. I'm not going to lie, I was a little nervous myself walking around there after so many drinks.
I finally got home at 4am. D-ron wasn't there, but I was too tired to care. I left the door unlocked and went to bed.
At 8:30 this morning I heard lots of noise in the back hall. I walked out and saw D-ron fully dressed and said "Why are you up so early?". He said "Up? I just got home." I said "Did you hook up?", and he laughed and said "Uhh, no. I slept in the bushes of a house next to St. Ex". Apparently when I went to the bathroom at Rumba he thought I ditched him, so he took a cab to St. Ex. They probably didn't let him in, or at least they shouldn't have. In either case, he was too hammered to get a cab at the end of the night so he climbed under some bushes and passed out. At 8am he woke up, crawled out of the bushes, and took a cab back to my place.
It's important to indulge in this type of behavior once in a while.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Met The Kid
I met the kid this weekend and would chalk that up as one of the stranger introductions of my life. He's actually a pretty good guy, a little shy at first, but then kind of funny.
ME invited me over for dinner Saturday night at 8pm, and told me that Kid would still be awake for a little while. While she didn't specifically say "I want you to meet my son", I took the fact that she noted that he would still be awake as a sign that she wanted me to meet him. I know that Kid likes Star Wars, so on my way to her place I stopped at Barnes & Nobles and picked up a Star Wars sticker book for him.
When I got to ME's place I was buzzed up and walked in. Kid was sitting on the couch watching cartoons and finishing up his dinner. As I rounded the corner he stuck his head over the top of the couch, looked at me, then plopped back down and took another bite of his grilled cheese. ME said a bunch of things to Kid in Farsi or Arabic then looked up at me and said "What do you want Kid to call you?" I hadn't thought about it. I said "Just NN, I guess?" ME said that in her culture it's very disrespectful for a child to address an adult by his first name, and said "How about Uncle NN?" I'm not sure I qualify as an adult, especially since I had just been considering stealing his grilled cheese, but Uncle NN was fine with me.
Kid really liked the book, and there were stickers all over the house in no time. I spent a little time talking to him about cartoons, then ME put him to bed and we had dinner.
The weather was supposed to be nice Sunday, so while we were eating I invited ME and Kid to come out on the boat the next day. She said that sounded like fun and we made plans to meet at noon at my place on Sunday. When ME got to my house she asked if I would mind driving because she had gotten lost and didn't want to drive anymore. I said sure and hopped behind the wheel, but as we left my place I looked around and saw ME, then the kid in the backseat surrounded by plastic buckets and other toys, and laughed at the ridiculousness of the scenario. There I was, driving a car with "the whole family" packed in it for a nice day at the beach. Quite absurd, really. It was like that Nicolas Cage movie The Family Man...only I don't have a Ferrari...and ME's way better looking than Tia Leoni...
The boat ride went OK. I was pretty nervous about having a four year old and ME, neither of whom can swim, on the boat at the same time, but everything went smoothly. I let Kid drive the boat for a while, which he seemed to like. I tried to pick out a fixed point and tell him to steer towards it, but he wasn't interested in that. All he wanted to do was make motorboat noises (ironic, since the real motor was running) and furiously spin the wheel from side to side. I don't even think he made the connection between turning the wheel and the corresponding change in direction of the boat. Maybe that logic sets in a few years from now. I have no idea.
When we got back to shore ME and Kid ran down the dock and played on the beach. I had to tie up the boat and take care of a few other things, but I also took the opportunity to fire down a much-needed beer in peace and quiet. The kid took a lot out of me.
One thing about the day freaked me out more than anything. My friend Chuck's parent's split up when he was one, and his mom remarried when Chuck was five. A few weeks ago Chuck's mom and stepfather were in town on their boat, and the stepfather was reminiscing about how he used to take Chuck out on his sailboat when Chuck was just four, the same age that Kid is now. Chuck mentioned how he remembers those boat trips, so I couldn't help but see the similarities in the situation. I'm not so preoccupied about the parallels between ME and I, as I am freaked out about the fact that 30 years from now Kid may remember our day on the boat together.
ME invited me over for dinner Saturday night at 8pm, and told me that Kid would still be awake for a little while. While she didn't specifically say "I want you to meet my son", I took the fact that she noted that he would still be awake as a sign that she wanted me to meet him. I know that Kid likes Star Wars, so on my way to her place I stopped at Barnes & Nobles and picked up a Star Wars sticker book for him.
When I got to ME's place I was buzzed up and walked in. Kid was sitting on the couch watching cartoons and finishing up his dinner. As I rounded the corner he stuck his head over the top of the couch, looked at me, then plopped back down and took another bite of his grilled cheese. ME said a bunch of things to Kid in Farsi or Arabic then looked up at me and said "What do you want Kid to call you?" I hadn't thought about it. I said "Just NN, I guess?" ME said that in her culture it's very disrespectful for a child to address an adult by his first name, and said "How about Uncle NN?" I'm not sure I qualify as an adult, especially since I had just been considering stealing his grilled cheese, but Uncle NN was fine with me.
Kid really liked the book, and there were stickers all over the house in no time. I spent a little time talking to him about cartoons, then ME put him to bed and we had dinner.
The weather was supposed to be nice Sunday, so while we were eating I invited ME and Kid to come out on the boat the next day. She said that sounded like fun and we made plans to meet at noon at my place on Sunday. When ME got to my house she asked if I would mind driving because she had gotten lost and didn't want to drive anymore. I said sure and hopped behind the wheel, but as we left my place I looked around and saw ME, then the kid in the backseat surrounded by plastic buckets and other toys, and laughed at the ridiculousness of the scenario. There I was, driving a car with "the whole family" packed in it for a nice day at the beach. Quite absurd, really. It was like that Nicolas Cage movie The Family Man...only I don't have a Ferrari...and ME's way better looking than Tia Leoni...
The boat ride went OK. I was pretty nervous about having a four year old and ME, neither of whom can swim, on the boat at the same time, but everything went smoothly. I let Kid drive the boat for a while, which he seemed to like. I tried to pick out a fixed point and tell him to steer towards it, but he wasn't interested in that. All he wanted to do was make motorboat noises (ironic, since the real motor was running) and furiously spin the wheel from side to side. I don't even think he made the connection between turning the wheel and the corresponding change in direction of the boat. Maybe that logic sets in a few years from now. I have no idea.
When we got back to shore ME and Kid ran down the dock and played on the beach. I had to tie up the boat and take care of a few other things, but I also took the opportunity to fire down a much-needed beer in peace and quiet. The kid took a lot out of me.
One thing about the day freaked me out more than anything. My friend Chuck's parent's split up when he was one, and his mom remarried when Chuck was five. A few weeks ago Chuck's mom and stepfather were in town on their boat, and the stepfather was reminiscing about how he used to take Chuck out on his sailboat when Chuck was just four, the same age that Kid is now. Chuck mentioned how he remembers those boat trips, so I couldn't help but see the similarities in the situation. I'm not so preoccupied about the parallels between ME and I, as I am freaked out about the fact that 30 years from now Kid may remember our day on the boat together.
Friday, May 27, 2011
White Bitch
Last night I was walking down H Street with my sister on our way to get a drink at Biergarten when I got into an argument with an old black female motorist.
My sister and I were on H crossing 13th street when a beat up red car ran a red light. The car was going really slow, but the woman blatantly blew the light and made a left onto H Street. I was a little in front of my sister and took a step back so the car didn't run over my toes. As she went by I said "Red light" and slammed my hand on her trunk.
The lady went nuts and started yelling "You hit my caaa, you hit my caaa!" She was screaming it as loud as she could, and my sister and I started to laugh. Then, with complete disregard for other cars the lady did a sweeping u-turn in the middle of the intersection, again very slowly - about idle speed, and drove over to me at the edge of the sidewalk. All the while she was yelling "You hit my caaaaa!"
As she came near me a large, older guy stepped out of the small crowd that was forming and said "You hit my wife's car?". Things were a little less funny now, especially since this guy was thick and I wasn't sure I wanted to tangle with him. I turned to look at my sister and saw that she was nervously power walking up the sidewalk.
There were a good 25 people standing around now, and both the husband and wife were yelling "You hit my caaaa". I said "You ran a red light and almost hit me, sober up then try driving." I don't know for sure that she was drunk, but she looked and sounded like it, and the husband was going into the liquor store on the corner. She then yelled "You put yo hand on my caaa? I kill you?" I looked at her rusty, oxidized, bucket of bolts 1982 Mazda and said "My hand touching it is the best thing that ever happened to that 'caaaa'".
Her response was an instant classic. She looked at me and yelled "White bitch", then did another U-turn in the intersection and drove off.
My sister and I were on H crossing 13th street when a beat up red car ran a red light. The car was going really slow, but the woman blatantly blew the light and made a left onto H Street. I was a little in front of my sister and took a step back so the car didn't run over my toes. As she went by I said "Red light" and slammed my hand on her trunk.
The lady went nuts and started yelling "You hit my caaa, you hit my caaa!" She was screaming it as loud as she could, and my sister and I started to laugh. Then, with complete disregard for other cars the lady did a sweeping u-turn in the middle of the intersection, again very slowly - about idle speed, and drove over to me at the edge of the sidewalk. All the while she was yelling "You hit my caaaaa!"
As she came near me a large, older guy stepped out of the small crowd that was forming and said "You hit my wife's car?". Things were a little less funny now, especially since this guy was thick and I wasn't sure I wanted to tangle with him. I turned to look at my sister and saw that she was nervously power walking up the sidewalk.
There were a good 25 people standing around now, and both the husband and wife were yelling "You hit my caaaa". I said "You ran a red light and almost hit me, sober up then try driving." I don't know for sure that she was drunk, but she looked and sounded like it, and the husband was going into the liquor store on the corner. She then yelled "You put yo hand on my caaa? I kill you?" I looked at her rusty, oxidized, bucket of bolts 1982 Mazda and said "My hand touching it is the best thing that ever happened to that 'caaaa'".
Her response was an instant classic. She looked at me and yelled "White bitch", then did another U-turn in the intersection and drove off.
Random Bits
Below are some random bits from a few recent ME dates.
Monday night ME cooked and elaborate Middle Eastern dinner for me, the second she's cooked for me this month. The difference between this one and the first is that on Monday her son was home. I showed up at about 9pm, and when I got up to her condo she said "I just put Son to bed, can I get you a drink?".
I know that when I was a kid if I heard strange voices in the house I would have been up and snooping around trying to get a peak at who was over. So, all night I had one eye on the hallway that led to the bedrooms to see if the kid was up and about.
The really awkward part was after dinner we were on the couch and ME wanted to fool around. She kept trying to take off my shirt but I was completely distracted. Finally she said "Let's go to my room." I couldn't believe it, she wanted to have sex (and I've already explained she's a screamer) with her son sleeping (or maybe not) just six feet away in the next room. I asked if he would wake up and she said "No, he's a little kid, he could sleep through a hurricane!" If it was OK with her it was OK with me.
We had sex, but I had a hand over her mouth most of the time.
I went over ME's house again on Wednesday night after we got pizza at Two Amy's. We were fooling around on her couch again and she said "Put me on the table". ME's place has an open floor plan, so her living and dining rooms are right next to each other. She was straddling me so I stood up and carried her over to the table and flopped her down on it. We were going at it and I started to hear the table creaking and cracking. ME was close to coming, but I was nervous the table was going to give out before she had a chance. But here's the thing, I kind of wanted the table to break. I don't know if it was because it would make a good story, or if it would kind of be a feather in my cap, but I was rooting for the table to break and pumped harder. When I heard some really loud creaks I eased up, though. I had a vision of the legs snapping and ME crashing to the floor. While an amusing image, she could have gotten really hurt so I picked her back up and put her on the kitchen counter, which was much sturdier. The next morning I regretted not breaking the table.
Last month ME and I met for dinner in Dupont. I rode the bike there and after dinner I gave her a ride to her car which was a few blocks away. I warned her that the pipes were hot and not to touch them, but like the know-it-all she is, she tapped her foot on the pipes a few times and said "It's not hot, see!". Well, the pipes were hot, and when she tapped her foot on them it melted the sole of her shoe a bit and the rubber stuck to my very clean, very expensive, aftermarket chrome exhaust pipes. I looked at the black glob on my pipes, then at her, and decided it wasn't worth getting into it at that point. I suppressed the rage and repeated "They're hot, don't touch them." She drove off in her car and I filed the incident away in the things that piss me off but will bring up later folder.
Wednesday night we took the bike to the restaurant. When I got to ME's place she came downstairs wearing short shorts and flip flops. I said "That's not great biking gear, why don't you go put on jeans and boots?" She said "Oh baby, it's too hot, can't I wear these?" It was hot, and we weren't going very far, so I said it was OK but stressed how hot the pipes were. ME swung her leg over the bike and just as I was about to warn her AGAIN about the pipes I watched as the inside of her calf pressed hard against one pipe.
Now, for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of a motorcycle ankle burn let me explain. The pipes can get very hot, probably 500 degrees after a good ride, and it was pretty hot the other night. When your skin touches the metal there is a moment where you don't feel anything. That moment is followed by a split second where your brain is trying to determine if the nerves are sensing "very cold" or "very hot". By the time the nerves clarify, and the brain translates and sends the signals to the muscles to react, precious moments have passed and the damage is done.
I watched in slow motion as ME went through these steps. The bike was off so I even heard the "hisssssss" of burning flesh. Before I could say anything ME jumped onto the seat and kicked her legs strait out and screamed.
Here's what was going to happen. The burn starts off as a pink mark on your leg about three inches long and two inches tall. Three hours later the mark is deep red and stings like a motherfucker. Hours after that it begins to puss. The next day the puss scabs over. If you're lucky, and you don't pick at the scab, you may only have a slight scar.
ME said "Oh baby, you burned me!". My mind went back to the day ME touched the pipes after I told her they were hot, and her cheap shoes melted onto my pipes and left permanent black blobs of rubber on them. I also heard my own voice from minutes earlier telling her to go put on jeans and to be careful about the hot pipes. I decided that if I said anything it would have been sarcastic, so I just shrugged, scrunched my lips together and made that inhaling noise that signifies "Owwwwwww, that must hurt".
There are some life-lessons that can't be taught, they have to be experienced first hand to learn. This is one of them.
Monday night ME cooked and elaborate Middle Eastern dinner for me, the second she's cooked for me this month. The difference between this one and the first is that on Monday her son was home. I showed up at about 9pm, and when I got up to her condo she said "I just put Son to bed, can I get you a drink?".
I know that when I was a kid if I heard strange voices in the house I would have been up and snooping around trying to get a peak at who was over. So, all night I had one eye on the hallway that led to the bedrooms to see if the kid was up and about.
The really awkward part was after dinner we were on the couch and ME wanted to fool around. She kept trying to take off my shirt but I was completely distracted. Finally she said "Let's go to my room." I couldn't believe it, she wanted to have sex (and I've already explained she's a screamer) with her son sleeping (or maybe not) just six feet away in the next room. I asked if he would wake up and she said "No, he's a little kid, he could sleep through a hurricane!" If it was OK with her it was OK with me.
We had sex, but I had a hand over her mouth most of the time.
I went over ME's house again on Wednesday night after we got pizza at Two Amy's. We were fooling around on her couch again and she said "Put me on the table". ME's place has an open floor plan, so her living and dining rooms are right next to each other. She was straddling me so I stood up and carried her over to the table and flopped her down on it. We were going at it and I started to hear the table creaking and cracking. ME was close to coming, but I was nervous the table was going to give out before she had a chance. But here's the thing, I kind of wanted the table to break. I don't know if it was because it would make a good story, or if it would kind of be a feather in my cap, but I was rooting for the table to break and pumped harder. When I heard some really loud creaks I eased up, though. I had a vision of the legs snapping and ME crashing to the floor. While an amusing image, she could have gotten really hurt so I picked her back up and put her on the kitchen counter, which was much sturdier. The next morning I regretted not breaking the table.
Last month ME and I met for dinner in Dupont. I rode the bike there and after dinner I gave her a ride to her car which was a few blocks away. I warned her that the pipes were hot and not to touch them, but like the know-it-all she is, she tapped her foot on the pipes a few times and said "It's not hot, see!". Well, the pipes were hot, and when she tapped her foot on them it melted the sole of her shoe a bit and the rubber stuck to my very clean, very expensive, aftermarket chrome exhaust pipes. I looked at the black glob on my pipes, then at her, and decided it wasn't worth getting into it at that point. I suppressed the rage and repeated "They're hot, don't touch them." She drove off in her car and I filed the incident away in the things that piss me off but will bring up later folder.
Wednesday night we took the bike to the restaurant. When I got to ME's place she came downstairs wearing short shorts and flip flops. I said "That's not great biking gear, why don't you go put on jeans and boots?" She said "Oh baby, it's too hot, can't I wear these?" It was hot, and we weren't going very far, so I said it was OK but stressed how hot the pipes were. ME swung her leg over the bike and just as I was about to warn her AGAIN about the pipes I watched as the inside of her calf pressed hard against one pipe.
Now, for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of a motorcycle ankle burn let me explain. The pipes can get very hot, probably 500 degrees after a good ride, and it was pretty hot the other night. When your skin touches the metal there is a moment where you don't feel anything. That moment is followed by a split second where your brain is trying to determine if the nerves are sensing "very cold" or "very hot". By the time the nerves clarify, and the brain translates and sends the signals to the muscles to react, precious moments have passed and the damage is done.
I watched in slow motion as ME went through these steps. The bike was off so I even heard the "hisssssss" of burning flesh. Before I could say anything ME jumped onto the seat and kicked her legs strait out and screamed.
Here's what was going to happen. The burn starts off as a pink mark on your leg about three inches long and two inches tall. Three hours later the mark is deep red and stings like a motherfucker. Hours after that it begins to puss. The next day the puss scabs over. If you're lucky, and you don't pick at the scab, you may only have a slight scar.
ME said "Oh baby, you burned me!". My mind went back to the day ME touched the pipes after I told her they were hot, and her cheap shoes melted onto my pipes and left permanent black blobs of rubber on them. I also heard my own voice from minutes earlier telling her to go put on jeans and to be careful about the hot pipes. I decided that if I said anything it would have been sarcastic, so I just shrugged, scrunched my lips together and made that inhaling noise that signifies "Owwwwwww, that must hurt".
There are some life-lessons that can't be taught, they have to be experienced first hand to learn. This is one of them.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Mistaken Identity
Last week I was thinking to myself how well things were going with ME. We have fun together, the sex is great, we have similar interests, I'm content. On Friday I started to write a post called "Knock on Wood" because things were going so well (which a portion of the name was accidently posted). Then the shit hit the fan Friday evening.
I skipped out of work a little early Friday afternoon. I had plans to get dinner with ME, my sister, and her new boyfriend later on the Hill. The weather was great and I raced home so I could take the hound out for a long walk in the park before dinner. While I was driving, and just a few blocks from home, I rolled a stop sign. As I darted across the intersection I saw a flash of auburn hair out of the corner of my left eye and realized I had almost clipped a pedestrian as she stepped off the sidewalk into the street. When I got across the street I waved to the person I almost hit then slowed down, looked in my review mirror and was very surprised to see it was Bartender. She smiled at me then crossed the street in my direction.
I never gave the full story on what happened with Bartender. In short, things with ME were getting more serious so I let Bartender fade off. She was going away for a few weeks so it was an easy transition. There were no hard feelings, she just thought we ran out of time to see each other before she left, and that was that.
I had pulled off to the side of the road and opened my passenger door. Bartender came over to the car and we chatted for a few minutes about her trip. She looked great. She was tan and wearing a short pair of shorts, and a very low-cut shirt. She said she was late for work but that she would give me a call so we could get a drink and catch up. I nodded and she closed the door and walked away. As I drove off I wasn't sure if my nod meant I would take her up on her offer of a getting a drink together or if it was just a polite reflex.
Fast forward a few hours. ME, my sister, her boyfriend and I had a cocktail at my house then headed to the restaurant for dinner. My sister picked a restaurant I go to fairly often on dates, but I never thought it would be an issue.
When we sat down th waiter, who I know, said "Stoli on the rocks, NN.", then turned to ME and said something like "Nice to see you again, ME" saying her name, which shocked the shit out of both of us. ME said "Wow, you remember my name?", and the waiter went on to say "Yes, the last time you came in you and NN sat at the bar and you had on ...", the waiter, who is very gay, went on to describe ME's outfit from her last visit in great detail. When he was done he took the rest of the drink orders then walked away. Then ME turned to me and said "Who have you been coming here with, because we've never sat at the bar together, and I don't own anything like the outfit he just described"
I was caught off guard and became defensive. I've been to that restaurant many times with Bear, who may not look much like ME but does have a close enough resemblance to warrant the confusion. However, I did take DGII to this restaurant for our one date and she does look very much like ME, though I didn't think this guy was our waiter that night. Whether the waiter was describing ME from the last time we were there but got the outfit wrong, was confusing her for some other customer, or was describing another girl that I had in fact gone there with another evening (albeit, not very recently) the effect was the same: ME was pissed.
So, shocked, and on the defensive, I said "Well, I did have a life before I met you", meaning, perhaps there is chance he is confusing you with another girl that I brought here before we met. Instead of making things better, this infuriated ME who said about seven words throughout the remainder of dinner.
After dinner ME and I got in the car and headed back to her house, since we had planned to spend the night there. Halfway to her house she still hadn't said a word to me, so I said "Are you going to sulk all night or are we going to talk about this?". I don't remember exactly what she said, but the gist was "you're an asshole".
If I take a step back and reverse the roles, I probably wouldn't have been happy if a waiter confused me for another one of ME's dates (if that is even the case), but I think I would have handled it better than she did. Actually, I was angry because I have been trying to be a good guy, and now she thought I was cheating on her when I wasn't. So, for the rest of the night all I could think was "Well, if she is going to think I'm cheating, I may as well get the benefit of it and give Bartender a call."
I didn't do that, though. We stayed up late and fought. Finally, at about 1am, all the cheese I ate at dinner caught up with me and I became doubled-over in pain as the lactic acid from the cheese made knots of my intestines then violently exited me. At that point ME went to bed and I caught up on the fascinating advances in cell research from the only reading material she had in the bathroom, which was some scientific digest.
In the morning we made up two or three times. No word from Bartender.
I skipped out of work a little early Friday afternoon. I had plans to get dinner with ME, my sister, and her new boyfriend later on the Hill. The weather was great and I raced home so I could take the hound out for a long walk in the park before dinner. While I was driving, and just a few blocks from home, I rolled a stop sign. As I darted across the intersection I saw a flash of auburn hair out of the corner of my left eye and realized I had almost clipped a pedestrian as she stepped off the sidewalk into the street. When I got across the street I waved to the person I almost hit then slowed down, looked in my review mirror and was very surprised to see it was Bartender. She smiled at me then crossed the street in my direction.
I never gave the full story on what happened with Bartender. In short, things with ME were getting more serious so I let Bartender fade off. She was going away for a few weeks so it was an easy transition. There were no hard feelings, she just thought we ran out of time to see each other before she left, and that was that.
I had pulled off to the side of the road and opened my passenger door. Bartender came over to the car and we chatted for a few minutes about her trip. She looked great. She was tan and wearing a short pair of shorts, and a very low-cut shirt. She said she was late for work but that she would give me a call so we could get a drink and catch up. I nodded and she closed the door and walked away. As I drove off I wasn't sure if my nod meant I would take her up on her offer of a getting a drink together or if it was just a polite reflex.
Fast forward a few hours. ME, my sister, her boyfriend and I had a cocktail at my house then headed to the restaurant for dinner. My sister picked a restaurant I go to fairly often on dates, but I never thought it would be an issue.
When we sat down th waiter, who I know, said "Stoli on the rocks, NN.", then turned to ME and said something like "Nice to see you again, ME" saying her name, which shocked the shit out of both of us. ME said "Wow, you remember my name?", and the waiter went on to say "Yes, the last time you came in you and NN sat at the bar and you had on ...", the waiter, who is very gay, went on to describe ME's outfit from her last visit in great detail. When he was done he took the rest of the drink orders then walked away. Then ME turned to me and said "Who have you been coming here with, because we've never sat at the bar together, and I don't own anything like the outfit he just described"
I was caught off guard and became defensive. I've been to that restaurant many times with Bear, who may not look much like ME but does have a close enough resemblance to warrant the confusion. However, I did take DGII to this restaurant for our one date and she does look very much like ME, though I didn't think this guy was our waiter that night. Whether the waiter was describing ME from the last time we were there but got the outfit wrong, was confusing her for some other customer, or was describing another girl that I had in fact gone there with another evening (albeit, not very recently) the effect was the same: ME was pissed.
So, shocked, and on the defensive, I said "Well, I did have a life before I met you", meaning, perhaps there is chance he is confusing you with another girl that I brought here before we met. Instead of making things better, this infuriated ME who said about seven words throughout the remainder of dinner.
After dinner ME and I got in the car and headed back to her house, since we had planned to spend the night there. Halfway to her house she still hadn't said a word to me, so I said "Are you going to sulk all night or are we going to talk about this?". I don't remember exactly what she said, but the gist was "you're an asshole".
If I take a step back and reverse the roles, I probably wouldn't have been happy if a waiter confused me for another one of ME's dates (if that is even the case), but I think I would have handled it better than she did. Actually, I was angry because I have been trying to be a good guy, and now she thought I was cheating on her when I wasn't. So, for the rest of the night all I could think was "Well, if she is going to think I'm cheating, I may as well get the benefit of it and give Bartender a call."
I didn't do that, though. We stayed up late and fought. Finally, at about 1am, all the cheese I ate at dinner caught up with me and I became doubled-over in pain as the lactic acid from the cheese made knots of my intestines then violently exited me. At that point ME went to bed and I caught up on the fascinating advances in cell research from the only reading material she had in the bathroom, which was some scientific digest.
In the morning we made up two or three times. No word from Bartender.
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