The Time I Bought a Concert Ticket and Didn't Stay for the Show

I used to have this really good guy friend, Jarrett. He worked at my company so I met him through a co-worker/friend of mine. We instantly became close friends. At the time, I was still unhappily dating Platonic Ex, but I really liked Jarrett's personality and found him attractive which you will rarely hear me say about a guy.

Last fall, Jarrett and I bought tickets to see his favorite band. At the last minute, one of his friends, Parker, decided to ditch his night class and met up with us at the concert. Things got off to a rocky start when Jarrett and Parker went to order a shot at the bar and Parker turned to ask me what I wanted. Jarrett scoffed, "We don't need to buy her a shot. She has a boyfriend for that."

Jarrett then proceeded to spend the next forty-five minutes during the opening bands hitting on random girls. I, on the other hand, stood there alone, drinking, like an idiot. I don't know what got into Jarrett that night -- that was completely uncharacteristic of him. I'd hung out with him plenty of times before and he was never an inconsiderate prick like that. I think eventually things just got weird between us. I don't know if it was sexual tension or what, but it got to be too much.

I sucked down two or three drinks until I finally became so outraged that I told Parker I was going to the restroom. I thought maybe if I splashed cold water on my face, I would cool down. But I was still fuming. When I exited the bathroom, I headed straight for the doors, got into my car and took off (we'd driven separately so I wasn't leaving him stranded). Jarrett was so busy mingling with the women-folk that he probably didn't even notice for quite some time. I know it was immature on my part but I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Things were never the same after that. He tried calling a hundred times that night and the next day but I ignored him. Eventually over email, he fed me some bullshit about how he wasn't deliberately ignoring me and that he was just having a good time meeting other fans of the band. Yeah. Right. We'd seen the band play another time and he hadn't acted that way.

By the time Platonic Ex and I finally broke up for good, Jarrett and I had drifted apart. We don't talk anymore so it came as a surprise when I received a Facebook message Monday evening from Parker wishing me a happy early birthday "in case he forgot."

I wrote back and thanked him and asked what he'd been up to so we've exchanged several messages now. Last night I finally worked up the nerve to inquire about Jarrett. I said, "So I have to ask, how is your friend Jarrett? I know he hates me and all..."

I'm fairly certain Jarrett doesn't hate me but I didn't know how else to broach the subject. I see I have a new message on Facebook from Parker, but it's blocked at work so I'm curious to see what he has to say since he was there when the drama went down. To be continued...

The Case of the Purple Toothbrush

Last night I met GC at the Loop for Wino Wednesday. After career and men updates (or lack thereof), we got to talking about our friend Ella. The past few months, she's been seeing a guy she met online. Last weekend she awoke to a familiar scent on his comforter. She recognized the smell, asking aloud, "What is that? I know it." Several repeated whiffs later, she identified the fragrance as Tommy Girl (the cheapness only added insult to injury).

She then got up to brush her teeth with the pink toothbrush he'd bought specially for her, but when she went to place it in its matching pink case, there was a purple toothbrush! She left with no explanation. He called twenty-four hours later (perhaps after purple toothbrush girl was over?) to say it was his roommate's girlfriend's toothbrush. One can only speculate as to how many toothbrushes his medicine cabinet holds...

The Good and the Bad

My weekend went something like this...

Good Shots

Raspberry kamikaze
Scooby Snack
Lemon drop

Bad Shots

Grape ape
B-52

If you thought I learned my lesson the first time around when I downed three grape apes in a row, you thought wrong. I only had one this time but it was enough to send me home early yet again. Other than vodka and Buddy's Grape soda, there's some myserious component that generates this negative response in my body -- it's not so much a sick feeling, but moreso the "I'm so crabby I want to die" feeling.

I had fun however -- the short while it lasted. The highlight being a random run-in with C-Sharp's most recent crush. I'll spare the use of her name but let's just say it's prevalent among nursing homes nationwide. She was cute and seemingly has a good head on her shoulders so she got my stamp of approval (not that anyone asked for it). It's pretty sad when you show up at 9 and can't outlast those in your group that have been drinking since noon. Oh, and Sparky showed up; I left ten minutes later. He was either mad or pretended to be mad. Tragically, when you leave the bar at 11:30, you get a lame blog post such as this. Dammit.

Saturday I met GC's childhood friend that was in town. She was super nice and cute and married. This loser douchebag acquaintance of ours showed up at the bar and started hitting on her right away. He got to be a major buzzkill with his persistent creepiness and phony lines such as, "You look like a million bucks tonight" and "You're too hot to be a nurse." Poor girl!

Lucky for GC, she was out of earshot range during all this, but when she found out how perturbed we were by his presence, she was quick to rectify the situation by herding our group to the patio. Two minutes later, guess who showed up for a smoke? He saw us and noted we weren't smoking, but I don't think he picked up on the fact we'd only gone outside to escape him. Or maybe he did. He moved on to some blonde in a red halter top. Whew. We met up with others, then split up, bounced to a couple more clubs, met some dudes in VIP that wanted us to go to some party off highway 280. We capped off the night by flirting with the 28-year-old valet attendant (after accusing him of being 18).

So I had a headache all day yesterday despite doing the things I usually do to cure a hangover -- being a total couch potato and loading up on caffeinated, non-diet soda and greasy food. I didn't drink that much so I'm convinced it was the B-52 shot Creepy bought us. Combined with the fact I'm old.

Bring Your Dancing Shoes

Last night I met up with a guy friend of mine and a few of his co-workers. In a quick phone conversation prior to meeting up, he said, "I'm here with three HOT guys." He then proceeded to hand the phone off to one of the three HOT guys, who wanted to make sure I knew how to get where they were going and told me to bring my "dancing shoes." Yes, that's right, your eyes are not deceiving you: dancing shoes. Luckily, there was no bringing of the dancing shoes since we ended up on the rooftop patio at The Drink. Did I fail to mention the long ass line you must wait in just to stand on the patio (seating is limited)? At least my friend came up with a no-fail excuse for the bouncer: tell him you forgot to close out your tab -- works like a charm.

So the HOT friends were not-so-hot. They weren't ugly by any means, but nothing to write home about. DancingShoesGuy was the cuter of the two single guys, but what turned me off was his outfit. He tried too hard with his white track jacket (which would've looked good on its own) and matching trendy shorts and hat. There was way too much thought process involved in the planning of his wardrobe -- perhaps he was compensating for something??

I saw many attractive females last night so I don't know how it happened (maybe I should give them the benefit of the doubt and call it a serious case of beer goggles) that DancingShoesGuy and his wingman spent the entire night talking to the nastiest women there. I swear, if you took away these ladies' make-up, styled hair, and cleavage-baring dresses, they'd look like ogres. They were tall, busty, and big-haired with the make-up of a tranny. No lie. They looked old too, upper 20s (guys were 23 & 25), maybe that explains the need for excess make-up. The irony is that these women claimed to work for Chanel and were not shy about dropping that bit of info. Perhaps Chanel recently came out with a drag queen line.

The third co-worker was celebrating his last day at work as he plans to move on to bigger and better things. He was dorky with side-swept hair, tapered jeans, and tennis shoes -- the kind you'd wear to the gym. To attest to his nerdiness, he has a Beagle named Chewbacca and on his first date with his wife, she asked if he liked Star Wars. Fortunately for her, it was a match made in geek heaven, as she later told him it would've been a dealbreaker had he said "no." He was friendly and nice, however, and I'm glad he was there 'cause I enjoyed talking to him.

StarWarsGuy told my friend he thought I was cool for the sole reason I could pick out a skank a mile away. We spent most of the time mocking the single guys' lame attempt to hook up with the Chanel Ogres while they mooched drinks and bummed cigarette-after-cigarette from said clueless men. The best quote of the night was from a married college friend of my friend who said (after a girl in a V-neck pushed her way past him): "I just got moved by a breast. I was already having a good night, but that was the icing on the cake." Glad to see he got some married guy action. The two marrieds also spoke of their wedding bands being a chick magnet -- another reason to delay marriage?!?

I didn't stay out long and gave StarWarsGuy a ride back to his car since it was on my way home. We continued talking about the pathetic pick-up scene we'd just witnessed and he couldn't get over the fact his buddy (the wingman) had no idea that one of the Ogres clearly had zero interest judging by her body language. StarWarsGuy has been married four years, so in that time, he's learned a great deal about women and the way they think. He said if he'd known what he knows now, he'd have gotten a lot more women back in his single days. Miscommunication between men and women is palpable -- while women overanalyze every word that comes out of a man's mouth, guys are totally oblivious. They say things and sometimes, as hard as it is to believe, it means absolutely nothing. In terms of mood, StarWarsGuy said guys are one of three things: 1.) Hungry 2.) Sleepy 3.) Horny

3 very enlightening words.

Random Post

It's Tuesday and I'm still trying to get caught up from the weekend. My friend dyed my hair, it's her own concoction of three different shades, and it looks great! Props to her. In the right lighting, you can see fabulous shades of red. I am still getting used to dark hair again, but I really love it -- it's even darker than my natural color; I look stern.

Why is it that the sweatiest people at the gym are the ones who neglect to wipe down their machines???

So I never even looked into any online dating sites (I'm lazy), but GC and one of our guy friends wanna try speed dating so I said I'd do it. I can't imagine taking it seriously, but it'd certainly be a one-of-a-kind experience for me to write about.

Over the weekend, I was sitting at a stoplight when a passenger in the car beside me said, "Heeeey, honey. Mind if I hop in your passenger seat?" Uh, yes I DO mind!! WTF? Who goes around picking up people at stoplights?!? I was scared for my life.

In the wee hours of Sunday morning, I missed a call from my brother so I tried to listen to his voicemail, but couldn't understand what he was saying over the music at the bar. The next day, I went to retrieve a new voicemail from a friend when I replayed the message from "my brother" which turned out to be the guy from LA I met a few weeks ago. His number never registered as a missed call on my phone.

I love drunk dials, how 'bout you?

Here's the drunk voicemail I received Sunday morning at 2:41 am:

WTP, this is LAGuy, I'm in town. Um, I'd love to take you to Perkins tonight. And um, we'll go to Perkins and let's go get something to eat. WTP, let's go eat and then we'll talk. I really wanna hang out with you. I'm back here in Minneapolis right now. Ok, let's go get some stuff at Perkins. Ok, I'll see you soon. Hey, talk to you later. Bye. Thanks. Call me back. Call me. Hey, call me.

Now this was a call I returned promptly. Riiiiiight.

It Never Ends

Saturday night I met GC at our regular hangout -- per usual, we met our fair share of winners.

The Social Retard

While standing at the bar, ordering drinks, Social Retard tapped GC on the shoulder.

SR: Are you gonna order me an Absolut tonic?

GC: No.

She shot him a dirty look.

SR: I thought you were taking drink orders.

GC: That's the worst pick-up line I've ever heard.

If I knew the equivalent of a high-five or fist bump for women, I would have used appropriate gesture. Awesome.

The Smooth Talker

His name was AJ and he was flying solo that night, but he didn't need a wingman. Instead of using a bad line (see above), he marched up to us and ripped on us for evading men by checking our cell phones. It was two against one, however, so we ganged up on him as soon as we noticed his fruity drink. It was something clear in a short glass with ice and two lemons, two limes.

Me: Are you sure don't need another lime or lemon?

AJ: Huh?? This is hardcore -- straight gin. Try it.

GC: Is that sangria?

The banter went back and forth as such, it was a chuckle and a half.

Note to AJ: If you wanna look like a badass by drinking straight liquor, ditch the fruity accessories. Or maybe just order a beer next time.

The Nigerian

A couple weeks ago when GC and I were at the bar, a Nigerian fellow caught her attention. While they made "eyes" at one another from across the bar, he never came over and talked to us. He was there, again, so GC decided to initiate. We conveniently ordered drinks beside him and his friend which began the conversation. About ten to fifteen minutes later, AJ reappeared at the bar with a lady friend we'd seen him attempting to schmooze earlier. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it looked as though he got shot down so naturally, I started making fun of him.

I don't know what brought it on, but out of nowhere, The Nigerian decided to call out AJ, accusing him of being a bullshitter. He claimed to have met AJ before, but AJ, seemingly aghast The Nigerian even knew his name, swore up and down he'd never met him in his life. The two ended up causing a bit of a scene so GC and I excused ourselves and headed out to the patio. Funny thing was when we came back in, AJ and The Nigerian were standing at the bar, chatting away as if they were old college roommates. What's the story there? Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe it was all staged.

GC's sister came to pick her up around 1:30 so I decided to go meet a few guy friends at The Front. I was done drinking for the night, but hadn't seen them in a while so it was fun to catch up. One of them was pretty wasted - - always entertaining. It was my first experience at The Front and I have to say, I kind of enjoyed it. There's a dj who spins and there were a lot of crazies dancing, namely this young woman dressed like a gypsie in a crop top and long, flowing skirt, off in her own little world, i.e., high on some really good drugs.

After the bar, we went to Santana's. It's greasy food for drunks. My friend ordered the zuchinni fries and regular fries so I ate some of both, instantly regretting my decision when stomach pains kicked in almost immediately.

It was an eventful two hours:

-- A guy with a blood trickling down the left side of his face came up and started mumbling incoherent statements

-- Friend decided to ask the owner (who remembered two of them from ten years ago) about Eddie Griffin crashing his car into Santana's while watching porn

-- Same friend laughed so hard he spit soda all over

-- Inappropriate questions were raised such as, "If you had to choose, would you rather wish _______ or _______ were on the 35-W bridge?"

-- A drunk ass that failed to stop at a stop sign nearly collided with an oncoming Jeep that came to a screeching halt

-- I've never seen two 30+ year old men so excited over magnetic poetry

Marking One's Territory

Yesterday was busy. I got up, went to the gym, and did 8 miles on the treadmill. Thought that was pretty good until I came home and checked my marathon "schedule" that said I should have done 12.

Then I went over to Stripes' house and we watched the first four episodes of season three of Weeds. He found them online and downloaded them, complete with French subtitles. Since I was very much looking forward to the new season, I kind of felt like I cheated or something by watching them early. I think disappointment may be too strong of a word, but I wasn't exactly jumping up and down with anticipation by the end. Don't worry, no spoilers though. Andy's storyline is my favorite thus far.

From Stripes' place, I headed to GC's. She invited me to her co-worker's BBQ which was way out in the middle of nowhere in the northern suburbs. I didn't know anyone other than her, so that always makes for somewhat of an uncomfortable situation, but it was a good time in all. I had the biggest hamburger of my life -- it was so THICK. It literally took half an hour to finish. The hostess said they were from Costco. Damn, that was one hunk of meat.

GC's co-worker was a character. She played Michael Jackson's Greatest Hits album, spontaneously busting out in lyrics and dance moves throughout the evening. As we were leaving, she said, "I'm sorry there weren't any cute boys here for you guys to make out with. I'd hook you up with my boyfriend's friends if they weren't all losers."

After the party, GC and I went to Miami. It was a strange crowd. Never seen so many black shirts, tats, and piercings in such an unusual locale. Most likely had something to do with the Uptown Art Fair being this weekend.

Anyway, the night got interesting when GC told me she thought she saw Nick from Big Brother. Of course, at the mere mention of the show, my ears perk up. I didn't see him right away, he was probably outside smoking, but she swore up and down it was him. Okay, she saw the show for the first time Thursday night. I live and breathe the show (albeit no one is very enthralled this season) and it definitely wasn't him. Despite my declaration it looked nothing like him, she was adamant, however, saying she knew it was him 'cause she thought he was hot, so we kept giving him looks until he finally came over to ask why.

Instead of asking flat-out if he was a contestant on Big Brother, she asked his name. I don't recall what it was, but alas, it was not Nick. She thinks she knows him from somewhere, but they never figured out the connection. Still, they had a lovely conversation until the owner of Miami, who happens to be smitten with GC, saw what was going on and came out to stake his claim. If he were a dog, he would've lifted his leg and pissed on her. GC and I were sitting on stools at the bar so the owner came up behind GC and started rubbing her shoulders. His gesture was so blatantly obvious, it scared off NotNick instantly -- he pretty much ran away as fast as he could.

In shock, the rest of the night GC kept repeating, "Did that really happen?" Before we left Miami, she really wanted to give NotNick her phone number, so she boldly approached him at the bar. But all because of a little shoulder rub, she got shot down. NotNick's polite response: "We know the same people." Meaning, he knew the owner and didn't feel like getting his ass kicked anytime soon.

We went to Bar Abilene for a bit, but it was too early to be exciting so since we were both exhausted, we decided to call it a night. Too many booze and boys (notice I said boys, not men) for one night.