First of all let me apologize to my readers (all 3 of you) for the delay in this weekend's post. It being slightly eventful, combined with my Sunday evening procrastination are to blame. Let's see, where shall I begin? I suppose chronological order makes the most sense.
Friday night my buddy Andrew, better known as Saquatch because he's something like 6'6", 240 pounds rolled into town from the dirty south, ATL to be specific. He holds the same position I do with the bank, but his market is entirely different, and makes for some interesting conversations during the work week. Let's just say I spend the majority of my time selling money to business clients, and Andrew spends the majority of his time begging, whether it be begging them to take it, or begging them to give it to him. Andrew's a very fun guy to hang out with, mostly because he and I share the same affinity for crude, offensive humor.
We met up with one of his old Raleigh girl friends, and no I don't mean girlfriend, I mean friend that happens to be a girl. However, in the car on the way there he very willingly volunteered her proficiency for metaphorically being able to suck a golf ball through a garden hose. This was the kind of girl I had to meet, I thought to myself. So we met this chick at Flying Saucer, which is one of my most favorite places in the world to consume quality fermented wheat, barley, and hops, otherwise known to Homer Simpson as "sweet, sweet beer" (the waitresses aren't bad eye candy either!). She was really cool. She was one of those chicks that likes to hang out with the guys, and that's always cool. The mood was light and fun until one of her co-workers showed up to hang out with us, after being fired from her job only hours earlier. Needless to say the mood changed drastically from that point forward. To make matters worse, it was compounded by her boyfriend's lack of consolation and concern. The guy was at home playing video games with his boys. I can't say I blamed the chick for being as upset as she was. She was a sweet girl, and she was hot. He should have been there for her. Did I mention she was hot? Anyway, as the night went on, she got angrier and angrier, more about her boyfriend than about losing her job (Which by the way, was a simple waitressing job. She acted like those aren't readily available. It's not like she got disbarred ala Mike Nifong and is going to have a hard time getting hired somewhere else).
So after a few beers, she got this idea that it would be fun to go clubbing and dance with hot guys to forget her boyfriend. Yeah, that's the ticket sister. She insisted that she and the other chick, who was much cooler, but less hotter, go change into something sexier for the club. So Andrew and I take these two chicks to one of the girls' houses and wait half an hour for them to decide on something to wear. Luckily, we did get a bit of a show out of that, but I'm not so willing to divulge that bit of information. We ended up at a few places after that, White Collar Crime, and Ess Lounge next door. Ess lounge, by the way, is the place that singer Uncle Kracker was arrested for sexual assault less than 24 hours earlier. I have since been informed that this arrest came after a female accused him of giving her a titty twister. What is this world coming to? If you can't playfully give someone a titty twister anymore without having to think about the legal consequences of the action, you're destined to live a boring, monotonous life. Both clubs were pathetically lame, unless the idea of meatheads cockblocking you all night while wearing the same shiny black shirt from Express that's two sizes too small for their steriod-enhanced biceps excites you. Much more appealing were the females in Julia Roberts Pretty Woman hooker dresses, accessorized with the best plastic ASSets money can buy. Sadly, this weekend's models did not also come equipped with brains as standard factory equipment. I'm sure some guy used them as pump and dump material Friday night, but there weren't enough $15 Grey Goose martinis to entice me to do the same.
The night ended up at Blue Martini, which wasn't quite as lame as the two previous nightspots, but still rather lame in its own right. Saturday was a bit boring (can't wait for college football to fill that void). However, Saturday night I went to a little birthday gathering for my friend Liza, who I met through my roommate Nick. Good times were had, though it's tough not to have fun playing juvenile drinking games. Note to self: How old is too old to play a drinking game? Second note to self: Probably around the same age that's too old to have a myspace page, which I'm thinking I'm rapidly approaching. We then went to Hideaway BBQ, which seemed like a nice enough place, to hear this blues trio. They were talented, but it got old a little too quick because damn it, they didn't sing, so everything started to sound the same. I did get to meet this chick Leslie that Liza was attempting to hook me up with. Unfortunately, we didn't get to talk much. I'm not sure if that was a product of the environment, which was better suited to 40 something's, or if she just wasn't feeling me in general. She was a knockout though. After the place became just a little too much to bear, I left and followed Leslie and this other guy and girl downtown to go out. However, after spending my last $5 to park, I was out of cash, because I rarely carry any to begin with. They wanted to go somewhere with a cover charge, which I can't stand to do because all you are doing is paying more money to be among meatheads and plastic Barbies. I can do that at the gym or on the toy aisle at Wal-Mart. I didn't want to spend all my time searching for an ATM, and I didn't want to borrow money from people I barely knew. So I told them to go ahead and have a fun night, and I went home. It wasn't exactly the climactic ending to the evening I was hoping for, but then again I'm not sure I care at this point.
Sunday was productive, as it was my first day working on the side with my neighborhood buddy Peter, who flips houses for a living. We are currently working on this house just off Wade Avenue near Whole Foods, that should bring a hefty profit once completed. We spent the entire afternoon cutting down trees along the property line, and powerwashing the entire oustside of the house to get it ready for painting. Nick compared me to a Mexican when I told him of this news, and I called him racist. I just think he doesn't know anything about good, hard, old-fashioned labor. It's not until you can appreciate this that you can begin to truly appreciate your everyday lifestyle and career. Besides, the scenery wasn't half-bad. Twenty-something chicks lying on the roof of the house next door in bikinis is more than enough motivation to get the job done. On top of that, I've always been the type of person who enjoys working on the sort of project where you can see what you've accomplished when the work is done. I guess it's just that sense of accomplishment.
Anyway kids, this post has been way too drawn out. Quit reading and get on with your lives.