eebmore: Handles

Handles

April 13, 2006

I guess I’m horrible with real human names... or, it never occurs to me to ask for them. A couple of nights ago, Baltimore had one of those online dorks happy hour thingys. Having the night off, and seeing it was taking place two blocks from my apartment, I attended. Had good time - enjoyed fellow loosers - too smokey, even for me, no booze headache the whole next day - went up to the bar for another club soda and received the sheepish goofy eyeball from a really large busted girl who was way too young to be looking at me (That was cool. Yay for low self esteem! Or maybe she was trying to score a free drink? Who knows, who cares?) - blah blah blah.

Towards the end of the night, I was invited to participate in some entertaining ne’erdowelling in the north suburbs with Malnurtured Snay and Anonymous Coworker. ACW and I headed up in one car, Snay in another. On the ride up, we chatted about this, that and the other thing. ACW told me what it was like living with his overwhelming homosexual tendencies and trying to hide them from his fiancé... and something I was supposed to keep to myself... I can’t remember. At one point, he reached over and put his hand on my knee. Flattered but completely disinterested, I sternly - yet sympathetically - explained to him that he couldn’t afford me. He took it well; but in the confusion we got lost and ended up in Pennsylvania Dutch country. After receiving directions and really high grade yay from some amish teenagers, we pounded a couple of lines off his dashboard and headed back to Baltimore on some back roads. Coked up ACW is hilarious! He was killing with the funniest slams on everyone in the Baltimore weblogging community, but I won’t repeat what he said here. Generally, I really didn’t know who the hell he was talking about anyway. He kept using everybody’s real life names, which I apparently don’t know. I kept asking “who’s Mike? who’s Sally?” etc... but it was pointless. He was blathering a million miles an hour and I get easily confused when I’m powered up anyway.

We eventually made it back to Baltimore, rendezvoused with Snay, ne’erdowelled (what little amish/bolivian gold we had left really came in handy), and headed back downtown. After once again fighting off ACW’s unwelcome spartan-like advances, we said our goodbyes.

Funny thing was, after all that - a two hour drive in amish country, which was apparently far more romantic for ACW than I would have liked, blasting a Pennsylvania Dutch eightball together, and the ne’erdowelling - I STILL don’t have the first clue as to what is his actual name. I guess it never came up.

I just think that’s kind of weird.

01:32 PM | Permalink

Comments

Cocaine is a miserable drug. The only thing I ever liked about it was the smell.

Posted by: tfg at April 13, 2006 03:08 PM

It's Tiberius, dude. For chissakes it's tattooed on your ass as of two days ago.

Posted by: anonymouscoworker at April 13, 2006 03:21 PM

Pictures!! I want pictures!

Posted by: Broadsheet at April 13, 2006 03:24 PM

Oh, is that why my ass has hurt so badly for the past two days?! I should have known something was fishy when you two knocked me out with chlorophyll.

Posted by: eebmore at April 13, 2006 03:25 PM

If you get knocked out by chlorophyll(sp), lay off the spinach. I once had a reconstructive surgeon who was an ether-head. He and his nurse would crowd in to huff when they cleaned the gum from surgical tape off my chest with it. Now the smells of ether, or cocaine make me sick. I've never smelled choloform, though.

Posted by: molly at April 13, 2006 10:03 PM

heh. whoops. retard moment. one of many.

Posted by: eebmore at April 13, 2006 10:33 PM

The dark haired girl with glasses, sitting to the right of the opening in the bar? Yup, I noticed her too. Wow. I could have sworn she was making eye contact purposefully, too, but then her boyfriend showed up a couple minutes afterwards.

Posted by: epiph at April 14, 2006 01:13 PM

why must you destroy my delusions?

actually, no glasses... so not the same. *whew* (my delusion still lives). it was some girl who was trying to make shy, worthless conversation with me while I waited for the bartender's attention. she was cute, but i was not about to make an ass out of myself trying to talk to some 21 year old. I've learned my lesson, 21s might be cute... but talking to them is like talking to a really painful brick wall.... which i'm sure is my fault... seeing how i have no game. but seriously, no 33 has any business talking to a 21. weighted towards the pathetic on the idiot scale.

Posted by: eebmore at April 14, 2006 01:54 PM

You don't look 33. Sorry I didn't introduce myself; it was hard to get a word in edgewise with my husband blathering away beside me. That's why I laugh so loud; it's the only way I can divert any attention away from him.

Posted by: Sally at April 15, 2006 12:25 AM

ah, so that’s why that poor girl couldn’t keep her eyes off me. probably thought the bald head was an aesthetic choice and not a male pattern necessity.

about two years ago (when i still had hair - it has been a tough 2 years on my hairline) I was seeing this woman for a couple of weeks - one of those stumble out of a bar one night and continue to hang out for a couple of weeks situations. I suspected she was too young, like 24 or something, so I didn’t ask her age. She, I’m assuming, suspected I was too old, like 28 or something, and didn’t ask my age either. eventually, she asked my age, and I told her 31, to which she gave me a *yeeech!* look. I asked her age, she said 21, to which I gave her a *yeeech!* look. It was the last time we ever hung out. No wonder we had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT. really smart girl, and looked 26 or so, but from my perspective had a head just filled to the brim with ridiculous immature nonsense. totally understandable, seeing how she was only 21. duh. but I said to myself “never again.” only girls who are relatively close to my age in the future. and no more meeting women in bars either, but that is an entirely different can of worms.

and sorry we didn't formally meet. I was too busy being in stitches over your husband. funny fucking guy.

Posted by: eebmore at April 15, 2006 09:17 AM

Huh. One time I woke up with this guy and started hanging out, and a couple of weeks later it was the same thing; he was 23 and I was 31. We both got real creeped out, but after a while it didn't seem so important so we got married.

Posted by: molly at April 16, 2006 11:03 AM

molly, 23 and 31? just within the half your age plus seven rule... see, that's why it worked out for you two. divide your age in half... add seven years, and if the other falls within the rule, there is a possibility it can work out. if the other person is either too old or too young the relationship is doomed. i've heard it's some old sharia law thing about islamic marriage or something... but I know many who swear by it.

but 31 and 21, that's just rediculious.

Posted by: eebmore at April 16, 2006 12:41 PM

Yeah, age is just a number. At least that's what I tell myself when I'm cruising the nursing homes for chicks.

Posted by: tfg at April 16, 2006 10:12 PM

it's not tiberius.

it's george w. bush. yes, that one.

Posted by: miss kendra at April 17, 2006 02:32 PM

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