Saturday, October 25, 2008

every day is like sunday ...

three things that happened at pickwick last night during dinner:
1. i was following a large group outside of the restaurant. one woman tugged a male friend back into the entryway and said: "don't tell [woman's name], but i just don't like sarah palen and i don't think i can vote for mccain." the man sympathised with her and promised not to tell [woman's name].

2. a circle of 40-somethings were standing in a circle smoking cigars and cigarettes.

"we're getting a new car," a woman announced.
"another car?" her friend answered.
"well, first we have to get rid of a couple," the first woman said.
"you'd be an idiot not to buy an escalade right now," the friend answered. "dirt cheap, comfy, and they are so good on the road."
"oh ... escalades are sooo nice," another friend responded. "they are soo roomy."

[who are these people? and where do they see the planet in five years?]

3. as we were leaving, i was singing the song "every day is like sunday," out loud. the busser stood by the table waiting for us to collect our things.

"i wish it was sunday," the busser said. "pickwick's closed on sundays."
[i laughed for a block.]

we headed to pizza luce, where i struggled to discern whether the man at the bar was drunk or born that way. he covered the bar with a layer of spilled patron, which another friend dipped at with his index finger like it was top the tator. he gave he bartender a bear hug, did a super secret handshake, said he had to go home, then shotgunned a beer. he told the bartender he was leaving and needed a glass of water. he did two more shots.

then we went to quinlan's. per usual. for some reason, the night turned into a tattoo parade, which i captured on film.

i struggled to understand what, exactly, this was a tattoo of.
"i don't know," it's owner admitted. "i got it when i was 19."
i now suspect that it is the canine-sharp claws of a vampire reaching into to crush the woman on a midol commercial.

this is the classic dolphin orbiting the planet tattoo.

and the ying-yang.

this is simply an appendix scar. and for the life of me, i cannot remember who it belongs to.

so quinlan's was super fun. lots of frenzied chatter.

two things that happened at RT's:

1. a man named sax came up to me, grabbed my hand and kissed it. grabbed it again and kissed it. went in for a hug and coated my ear in saliva. i pushed him back. he got into the front seat of a cab. turned back to look at me and said: "NOW YOU'RE ALL MAD AT ME!" ??? not mad, necessarily. in need of a bleach wash? sure.

2. a man stumbled up to a group of us and said he had just been robbed at knife point and wanted to borrow a cell phone to call 911. he seemed a bit sketchy. my phone was not on my person at the moment. one friend, cell phone clearly visible in her front pocket claimed to not have one. we shifted about four feet away from the victim.

we came home and ate toasted peanut butter and banana sandwiches, which i was mighty glad was not a pizza.


Beverly said...

The Midol tattoo looks like a guy to me.

Latuska said...

1. I've never seen Jim's tattoo. Now I have. I wish I still had never.

2. Was it my phone that was totally visible in my front pocket? Because I usually have that sucker right in my hand. That dude wasn't puttin' his mitts on a damned thing I own.

3. Is that Dave Van's scar? Looks like his pannies.

PS--that was the best night at RTs in a long time. And I am owing that to you and your gentleman.