Friday, August 17, 2007

85%

So last night was a pretty successful outing. We started at Industry Night, where I ate chicken strips & taters w/gravy (*insert choir of angelic voices*). We didn't hang out there too long, because there weren't a lot of people around and LaRue suggested we go to her favorite place in the universe, which is a dueling piano bar. Because LaRue is usually very responsible--indeed, one might even say abstemious--when she decides to go out I go along. Besides, you never know what might happen. She ended up getting hit on my some deutschbag(1) in a houndstooth fedora and the 85-year-old piano player. I'm really not kidding. The piano player was in a purple suit, too. But LaRue's boyfriend, the other piano player (who is fewer than 85 years old) wasn't there so before long we headed up to The Pub (TM). Obviously.

Once there, we met back up with Leo and one of his new coworkers. Now, I try to reserve judgement, but--wait, who the hell am I kidding. I never reserve judgement. Judgement is my specialty. This guy is a royal pain in the ass. He's dweeby, but that doesn't usually bother me too much. The thing is...he doesn't know he's dweeby. He is convinced that he is actually charismatic, witty, and Brad-Pitt-tastic. I can assure you that none of these things is remotely true. He made a bunch of not-funny quips at which he himself (and only he himself) laughed and at one point pulled me over. It's kind of hard to explain but I was standing, facing away from him, and he sort of grabbed my sides and pulled me backward so I landed on my butt on the booth seat. I wasn't hurt or anything but I gave a little surprised shriek and The Pub People looked over and I just was sort of embarassed instead of punching the guy in the junk like I should have. I think even Leo wanted to kill the dude. He sent an apologetic text message at 2am and Leo never apologizes for anything. So it wasn't just my usual intolerance, the guy really was a jackass :)

But I danced with LaRue and sang my head off at the piano bar, because that is what girls do when someone starts playing
Bonnie Tyler. Leo and I also gave each other a bunch of crap in the pub, which always entertains me to no end, and my sweet, good Airbear not only went along with us two crazy broads to the piano bar but also (and not for the first time) gave LaRue cash to go up and give the piano players, because she never has any ca$h monies and they were playing shitty country music. (Not only can you pay them to sing, you can pay them to stfu.) What a good Airbear!

So while I did the perfect amount of drinking last night and was able to blow off some serious steam, I did not get to do the perfect amount of sleeping in because of my StupidFridayMeeting. I plan on remedying this situation posthaste.

P.S. Two blog days in a row, BLAM!!


(1) look at me sprecken'in ze deutsch!

1 comment:

varweblog said...

Nitza's 85% drunkenness seems to have blurred the actual happenings of last night. LaRue did, in fact, obtain 40 U.S. dollars before leaving for the dueling piano bar. But after paying $11 for the cab and buying multiple drinks for both Nitza and Airbear and paying her own $10 to make the bad country song stop, she later in the evening had to beg Tiger for $10 to get the Illinois Fight Song played. Note, the piano players knew a single line of the fight song as well as the general tune, but made up the rest of the lyrics, inserting "Champaign" and "Fighting Illini" occasionally.