after bar
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2001-09-30 20:58:04 (UTC)


Ten months later and I'm sitting in a basement at Rini's
new house. Everyone is upstairs talking about inane adult
things like grilled trout and door frames, and I'm in the
basement listening to a crackling tape of the Rolling
Stones (that sounded like it was burned from a radio
station), with a crazy 46 year old senior citizen who has
just announced that the one man he'd really like to have a
romantic dinner with is Mick Jaeger. (although, he said it
much more lewdly, and followed up with a Mick Jaeger
dancing impersonation that was not altogether rated PG, but
not altogether that far off) Then he starts to sing,
loudly, more like rapping the words of some vintage Stones
tune that I hadn't ever heard in my 20 plus years of
knowing about the rolling stones. He was on one couch, I
was on the other. He just stared straight ahead yelling
these lyrics. I was laughing, but more "whoa, what a
psycho" laughing. After two verses, the vegetable tray and
brownies couldn't contain me any longer. I grabbed my purse
with the intent of leaving, and walked wide eyed to the
kitchen for someone to save me from that crazy man. The
next thing I know, I'm talking trout and door frames.

I had decided not to drink, but the scene definitely got
better after two gin and tonics, a cigarette and stolen
sips from Jon's Bud Light. Suddenly it's 3 a.m. and Jon is
trying to think of the worst sequel he's ever seen -- and
has been talking about this since he showed up at 1 a.m. (I
weighed in with Caddyshack 2 and everyone agreed); Gary's
wife had left after pointing to her watch and suggesting
maternally that he be home by 1 a.m. -- and after she left,
he was finding excuses to put his arm around Rini and had
``one more" gin and tonic about three times. He was still
there when I left at 3:30.

Gary's compliment to me last nite was that I "take
criticism well" which was nice coming from my boss.
Apparently he doesn't see the wads of paper he gives me
with corrections that I don't look at and immediately toss
into the nearest recycling bin violently with the intent of
it becoming toilet paper someday. What he takes as taking
criticism well, I take as "too lazy to complain when I know
you're right, and we all have to wipe ourselves."

I went to the party pretty sure that Chase was going to be
there in a corner, clutching a Corona in one hand, this new
girlfriend in the other, laughing. What would my response
be? Oh, the gamat that ran through my head...but I'd
probably stick to something like "nice to meet you."
Instead Jon was there after touring the bars, and trying to
tell me (in a drunk code that wasn't so much a code -- he
said sex and Chase in the same sentense, a savvy
eavesdropper could probably figure that one out without a
decoder ring) that I still hadn't told him the details of
what happened with Chase that one night.

Finally I left. Called my boyfriend at an obscene hour with
nothing obscene to say. He retaliated by calling me at 10
a.m. when he went to work. I was having a fantastic dream
about Luke Perry (and Mary Kate and Ashley Olson) and
crackers in a high school locker that I wasn't excited to
be jarred from.