Did you like the shot
2005-06-13, 12:23 p.m.
Did you like the shot of Mrs. Beans lolling about on the living room floor? Didja? Huh? Because now that I know how to do that little trick, you know there’s no stopping me. Kind of like when I learned how to bold and italicize.
So I give you: me. Sitting in my office with alarmingly black hair and eyebrows (it’s like I’m wearing a Groucho disguise today), making a rather constipated face while I surreptitiously take a picture of myself with my cell phone during work hours.
My little cabbages, we went back to the Fag Bar Friday night. Where was Lil Guy, you ask? He spent the night with Lou, so Friday night was a wide-open playing field, fraught with temptations, pratfalls, buzzy antics, and of course, my buzzers. BZZZZ!
So, we started out at the FB, and made friends with two girls (although they are in their 40s, so they are actually WIMMIN) who were sitting at the bar, who told us they were stopping there but briefly before going to yet another downtown bar to listen to their friends’ jazz band play. I announced “We’re going there, too! Definitely!” because Don, you see, had some clicking and whatnot going on with one of the WIMMIN. And I wanted to foster that relationship because y’all, Don needs a woman.
They headed out, and we headed out shortly thereafter, and when we arrived at the 2nd bar, our 2 new friends erupted into cheers and applause, and the whole bar, including the band turned to see what celebrities had entered their midst. Alas, it was only us: The Three Middle-Aged Barflies who are fun to party with.
It was fun. Don and his new friend-girl more than clicked. There was clacking, and buzzing (BZZZ!) and whirring, and you know what happens when the clicking becomes especially vigorous? Sparks, yes, that’s right. Sparking was happening, and we all basked in the glow of middle-aged sparkiness.
A bit, but not too much, alcohol helped lubricate the social proceedings, too. The band played that ol’ favorite “Satin Doll”, and their leader was jibba-jabbering about satin dolls, satin sheets, satin nighties, and I hollered out, as I am wont to do “SATIN PANTIES!” He thanked me for vocalizing what everyone else was thinking. And that’s my special talent, folks. Saying out loud what everyone else is thinking but is a little too timid to say.
Thank you! And good night!
DW and I left about 11:00 or so before we had a repeat of the weekend before, i.e. too drunk to fuck. Plus, we had many plans for much house-working on Saturday, and the last thing we needed was hangovers impeding our progress.
I don’t have too many details about what happened after we left. All I know is that the bar closed at midnight, and Don says he and his new friend-girl sat out in the parking lot for 2 hours, and DW tells me that he has it on good authority that there was NO parking lot sexual intercourse. That Don, such a chivalrous gentleman. Don’t you wish you lived here so we could be all up in YOUR sexual activities, too? You do. Because then I’d not only be reporting my own sexcapades, and Don’s sexcapades, but yours also.
If you like, send me an email, and I’ll hook you up on the Monday Morning Sex Report.
I’m really speeding through this story because much of it really isn’t my story at all, but I will say that the friend-girl and I hit it off in a special “Heterosexual Middle-Aged Women who don’t have all that many girlfriends” kind of way. She called me Saturday evening and we decided that all of us meeting was an event of serendipity, and whatever happens with her and Don, she and I will definitely be getting together again, as we had so much fun and have quite a bit in common.
I have a new girlfriend! I have a new girlfriend!
I asked Don Sunday afternoon if he was going to see her again, and he said “Yeah, I think so.” I told him he might as well, because I was going to see her again, and he might as well make the best of it, and just go ahead and marry her already. See what a good friend I am? It’s because I care, y’all, I truly care.
The rest of our weekend was a kind of swirl of painting door jambs, driving around, letting Lil Guy nap on the couch when he got home from Lou’s, ordering pizza, going to church, running errands, doing housework, and cooking chicken - dead chickens, not live ones – on the grill last night.
One more thing: Go, Spurs. Go! Kind of like Go, Dog. Go! We have discovered that the secret to the Spurs’ success is for me to declare sometime in the 4th quarter “They’re going to blow it. I can’t watch. I’m going to bed.” And to actually go to bed and go to sleep and not see the last minutes of the game. The team seems to play so well without me watching and putting the pressure on them.
Other than that, my husband is still a right-wing zealot, and I am still as apathetic as ever about politics. I still believe that park rangers are a good idea, and that public schools and public health make all our lives a better place, whether or not we directly avail ourselves of these services. Can you BELIEVE what a liberal I am? I’m not the girl you thought I was, am I?
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