Your cocktail sir,





2002-08-19 - 12:12 a.m.

I learned some important things this weekend:

1. Being drunk and Country Music donít mesh well with me

2. My car can take a corner designed for 25 mph at 50 no problem

3.I donít shut up when I should after a couple of drinks

Well, I already knew that about #3. And itís not actually like I ever shut up when I should. Even without the drinking.

I went out with a friend and her liberal mafia friends this weekend. This involved an excellent dinner at the Left Bank followed by a showing of the film xXx. Which was full of excellent action sequences and more hot chicks than I thought existed in poor Eastern European countries. Iíve been to Prague. The chicks there do not look like that. And come on, the people line up for bread, and yet at night find time to party in heavy industrial techno clubs and look exotic? Anyway, good action that was ruined wheneber someone would start to speak and towards the end that became painful. Becaise there was a lot more talking. And there was poor production design. But Iíll let it pass. I was driving to the restaurant I was in the fast lane, and E, my friend, pointed out the exit to me. So I swerved across 4 lanes of traffic and exited. It was actually very cool, but unfortunately set a bar for the rest of the evening that was difficult to surpass. After the movie, we went for a drink, and I sought to numb the pain of xXx with a few pints of Guinness. One of the persons in our party was doing the Susan Summers diet, and kept ranting about the evils of alcohol, especially beer, so I had more because she was annoying. Almost all of these people work for our local PBS station and so the conversation was, well, quite boring. Also pretentious and very PC. Iím not PC. But I managed to sort of hold my tongue. Even though it wasnít true, I felt a little bit like OíReilly, constantly disagreeing with everyont just to stand out. I didnít have his glib demeanor however. I had a pleasant buzz from my few pints, but was low on cash. So I decided to duck out to the ATM. I have bad luck with ATMís. The establishment had an ATM, however I decided that I would not want to pay the exchange fee, and my bank was a few doors down. So off I truck with my friend, another guy that was with us, and the Summersize girl. The Bank happened to be next to an establishment that specialized in Country Music. Blaring from the doors was the Alan Jackson song, Where Were You?. I hate this song. Itís gotten me into trouble in the past. It grates my nerves and pushes all the right buttongs. I imagine that somewhere the CIA has programmed me, so that in the near future I will be at a public event, the song will play and I'll cause trouble, allowing for a distraction. It's my civic duty. Or subliminal tampering. So I spout off my usual retoric about hicks. I donít like them, itís amazing that they breed with the tight pants they wear, who needs a monster truck in urban California, my basic "points". What I failed to take into consideration were the other people waiting for the ATM, most of whom where not going to the faux English Pub with it's large draft selection and cosy booths for PC conversation, but where in fact patronís of the establishment I was ripping on with it's two beers and a dart table. As well as a song that is considered, amongst that segment of the general population (thatís keeping the Nascar merchandise machine going strong, not to mention Wal Mart and the DQ) to be an rousing cry of freedom. I wasnít too far gone enough to realize that I had perhaps taken to far, after John talked a couple of guys from beating me up. Heís a school teacher and is used to dealing with petulant children. Summersize was in shock. And E was ready to kill me, assuming that Tweedledeedum and Tweedledeedee didn't (they were kind of heavy. I was going with a mental capacity as well, however that's not very wise, considering that I'm the one who was spouting off). I did offer to buy the gentlemen a round of drinks as an apology but they declined, in a rush to get back to the bar, where Friends in Low Places had caused an impromptu karaoke night it seemed. And so, unscathed again, by luck or cooler heads, we returned to our pub. Summersize immediately informed everyone else the events, putting my involvement in the worst light. John sort of came to my defense, but not by much. Not that there really was one. E was pissed at me. I pretty much deserved it. But I think there was a little bit of jealousy on the liberal mafiaís part. I had taken a stand against something that I thought was tacky. I was un PC. I wasnít hiding behind the fact that I worked in Public TV and therefore was doing something about the way things are. I was willing to get my ass kicked, which is more than they were with thier passivity and calling for action without actually doing something. So, though the night was a washout, I will still claim the victory. Even if I had to sleep on Eís couch.

previous - next

Zen and don't cry out loud - 2007-07-29

Zen and the stumbling rocks of fitness - 2007-07-19

- - 2007-07-11

Zen and fasting - 2007-06-20

Zen and hiccups - 2007-06-18

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