Monday, June 07, 2004
Good weekend, because I had two birthday parties: one for my friend Don Fiedler on Friday, and one for my roommate Ben on Saturday night.
I don't want to go into a long story about all of what happened this weekend because I'm really lazy, so I'll break it down:
I met my roommate Brian at 10:30pm. He had been out since 6:30pm. I had $114 in my wallet.
Fast forward to 3am.
- I had to leave the bar because Brian was asked to leave. This was after 1) falling into a table that two girls were sitting at, spilling their drinks everywhere and sending them running in horror; 2) falling asleep at the bar; and 3) generally being a wobbly mess.
- On the cab ride home, Brian sat shotgun while I sat in the back by myself. It looked like we were driving to the Dairy Queen with our dad. Only in this case our dad was driving a cab and he was from Singapore.
- I had $31 in my wallet, along with receipts of two bar tabs: one for $28 (not including $12 tip), and one from $80 (not including $20 tip). Total: $223. Ouch. And to be honest, I wasn't too drunk. Still, I had a very good time.
I was in charge of planning Ben's birthday, so I picked Rathbone's at 88th & 2nd. People could either meet us there at 11 or come to our new place at 95th & 3rd for drinks beforehand. At about 10:30, we starting getting calls saying, "Yeah, um, we're at Rathbone's now, and it's closed. What should we do?"
Minor problem, which was to be expected when someone like me has to plan something.
We instead decided to do Merrion Station at 95th & 2nd and we all proceeded to get shithoused. It's all blurry, but again I was throwing money again, my roommate Brian and friend Brendan almost got kicked out of the bar because they were playing "air volleyball", setting each other up and spiking all over the bar, and I had this conversation with the bartender:
Me: [trying to be friendly] "I'll have three shots of Jaeger please."
Her: [very unfriendly] "Ok."
Me: "By the way, what's your name?"
Me: "Martha, I'm Jason. I just moved in up the street, so I'm sure you'll be seeing a lot of me."
Her: [walks away]
In addition to being so very friendly, she gave me three whole shots for free, despite the fact that at the end of the night by bar tab was $210. So so much for Merrion Station.
[I should mention that I was really banged up and probably wouldn't have remembered if she invited me behind the bar to show me her boobies. And she may have been unfriendly to me because last time up I asked her to take me behind the bar to show me her boobies. I guess we'll never know for sure.]
We closed down the bar, but went to the nearby Ray's Pizza to sample some of the late night dining in our new 'hood. I chose one plain slice and one sausage slice, when I should have went with the plain and the sausage and pepperoni slice. Thus:
Guy: [taking my pizza out of the oven and boxing up my plain and sausage slice] "Ok, that'll be $4.50."
Me: [visibly drunk] "Actually, can I get the sausage and pepperoni slice?"
Guy: "You want that too?"
Me: "No, instead of the sausage slice. You can put the sausage slice back, and throw the pepperoni and sausage slice in the oven."
Guy: "No, I can't do that."
Me: [getting sad] "Why?"
Guy: "Because I already heated it up."
Me: "But you can just reheat it again for someone else."
Guy: "No, I can't. That's $4.50."
Me: [eyes welling up with tears] "This is a fucking travesty."
At 4:30 in the morning with a load on, I care about two things: food and boobs (boobs were not immediately available).
And the night ended as usual: me, drunk, alone, struggling to walk home and eat my pizza at the same time, looking forward to getting home, so I can microwave the shit out of that leftover cookies 'n' cream ice cream and drink it straight out of the pint.
Good fucking times.