Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Hitting my groove

I am starting to think that my inner partygirl has returned once more. Perhaps because I have found some kind of balance between work and my personal life. Or maybe it's because it's one of the ways with which I deal with stress.

Over the holiday weekend, I started thinking to myself that since I was still in my birthday season, there was no reason why I should not head out. The first thought of this was on Friday. Then I spent the afternoon with the Zombie family. OK. Let's get real. If I had walked to their house as I had originally planned, there is no doubt that I would have gone out. But then I was a slug and took so long in getting motivated that I had no choice but to drive there. That left Saturday.

I got home from an afternoon with my aunt and put the beans on to cook for the cassoulet. By the time they were done, I realized that I had just enough time to get myself ready to show up at the pub just as my bartender would be starting his shift. No brainer there.

Since it was "early," I brought a book with me. Every thing seemed fine. Cocktail in hand, I headed to the small outdoors area to drink, smoke and read. And then the guys who were sitting upstairs spotted me. Apparently they had just scared off another woman. And they wanted to talk to women. How do I best describe the situation? It was like hanging out with Sheldon, Leonard and their friends. Really. And I was sober. The start of the conversation was a warning to not get my book wet and then a question about whether I knew the story about when Abe Lincoln got a book wet as a child. I shit you not. Then there was some opera singing. There was other stuff but I have mercifully blocked it all. I quickly escaped back into the pub so that I could strain my eyes in their poor lighting and swill down more cocktails.

By the time the chick who warned me that the last OKC guy and Sports Guy both had something off in their heads (Nothing like a little confirmation.), I was feeling more sociable. Thank goodness. Turns out the guys who had made me flee indoors knew her. And you know what? After a few cocktails, they weren't that bad. We discovered a common love of all things Dave Chappelle. They also could not understand how Kate found him so offensive.

Oops. I may not have mentioned that previously. In fact I know that I didn't because I let the stuff marinate at the time and took a bunch of stuff out of my post about her visit. What the hell. When Kate was visiting back in April, she informed me that she found Dave highly offensive after I popped in one my fave DVDs. OK. So maybe she didn't actually make this proclamation until she heard him tell a bit about a guy masturbating on a bus. She just didn't get how it could be funny. I told her that if she actually rode public transportation, she would understand because she would realize that that kind of thing does happen on public transportation. (Hmmm. Makes me think about why I will not take the 22 Fillmore -- or the Hoochie Express as I came to call it after that one fateful ride.) Then there was something about how he and Eddie Murphy were merely retreads of Richard Pryor. The conclusion? Why couldn't they be more like Bill Cosby? Yeah. Ummm. It was on at that point. But she's been my friend for over 20 years so we're still speaking.

Enough about that already. The evening continued and Random Boy made an appearance. (By the way, he created the name, not I. "I'm just some random guy you occasionally run into at the bar.") Now I'm feeling lazy and don't want to check the archives but here are the important things about him. He'll be 25 later this year. He likes to hunt, fish, watch NASCAR, and drink bourbon. I didn't think they made those types in Berkeley. He's also just as sarcastic as I am. And on Saturday, he felt the need to explain some of his comments. As in he was joking when he agreed previously that I was fat. But I knew that he was joking. And then there was the discussion about how there is a small part of my brain that knows that I'm not fat. Unfortunately it's not the part of my brain that processes the image it sees in the mirror.

I remembered those words when I got home from work on Monday night. I had already eaten my daily calorie allotment at lunch since I had made one of those rare trips to a fast food restaurant. But then I thought that it would be OK if I ate more so I had a small helping of the cassoulet. It's all about baby steps. Lots of other people have told me that I look OK but they are all trying to lose weight so a part of me doesn't really trust them. But when Random Boy and Zombie Mom tell me that I look OK the way I am, I believe them. Go figure.

Tonight the partygirl tradition will continue. I'm off for the rest of the week after today. And my bartender works on Wednesday nights. Guess where I'll be tonight?

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