4.06.2005
In The Swing O'Things
So, since I haven't been blogging regularly there is so much to catch up on. Recently I've been spending time with some girls that until recently I held as acquaintances to A) wean my social life off the Puppy and B) to get out more and flirt shamelessly with clever boys. One of them, J, is a geniuinely good person and has been keeping me quite busy. I Adore Her. It's so good to have another healthy, happy girlfriend, especially since K left for Chicago last week. Sob! J and I already have plans to go to Chicago in June to see K and catch the Spoon show, but I am heartbroken without her. First K leaves town, now the Puppy. He extended his departure date from Thursday to Friday - he had a wicked hangover from last night. So there you go.
And in the meantime, I've been having some adventures with the girls. For instance, about two weeks ago I went to dinner on Friday night with some girlfriends who loooooooove to talk to guys. Before we hit the hell that is Scottsdale on a Saturday night, they dragged me to an incredibly bad restaurant that is lauded for its "ha ha so funny strange ingredients in rolls with kitschy names" "sushi." The other gimmick is that the wasabi is BLUE. As for the food, it was just plain gross – one roll they ordered had slices of warm beef on top, another was comprised of what they said was eel and mango, but it was covered in some sloppy sauce and was presented to the girls as a squashed, gelatinous mass of slime. They loved it, and cleaned their plates, washing it down with Jello martinis. Yeah. To be safe, I ordered a spicy salmon roll, but that nasty blue wasabi turned the fish black and made everything taste sour.
(I can complain with the best of them, but when it's about bad food I find a special pleasure. I get this from my father. To him, a poor restaurant experience is almost more enjoyable than an excellent experience. Almost.)
Anyhoo, after a delicious dinner it was on to three cheesy Scottsdale bars. The first was a Phoenix version of NYC's Hogs & Heifers called The Dirty Dog Saloon. Its patrons are mainly middle-aged bikers in leather vests and sad, sad 25-year-old sacks that are too cheap to pay for strip bars. The bartendresses get up on the bar and do stripperish dances that attract all eyes, but the dancing girls themselves seem totally blase as they shake their moneymakers, then jump back down to pull beers. The next stop was a Hawaiianish place called Drift that I love visiting during the week, but come the weekend it's suffocating. Asses and elbows all the way. Clouds of cologne. Striped shirts everywhere. And though the girls I was with attract their share of guys, unfortunately, all the guys they like are the tan, big-toothed, tight-shirt types who are nice to look at but completely dunderheaded once they open their mouths. I like a man I can banter with. These were not that man. I was seriously in so much pain. The final stop was the worst offender, and oof, I've already done so much complaining that I can't even go on. Read this to understand: http://www.thephatphree.com/features.asp?SectionID=11&StoryID=239&Layout
The very next night was my friend K’s going-away party. Sigh. So much fun but so sad, too! I got tipsy pretty quickly off two drinks and was hashed by 11:00 when my friend de Leon showed up. Since the party was breaking up (too many people too drunk and too sad after the U of A loss), de Leon and I left soon after. Happily, the Puppy called just as we got in the car – he asked me to meet him at a bar where some punk bands were playing, so the night just got more boozy, unfortunately for me. The next morning de Leon and I woke up with our mascara on our cheeks and regretted our existence. Ouch. That was Easter Sunday. And though I was in pain, I did manage to take Pork Chop to the dog park…where he was humped by a 6-ounce Yorkie. My poor dog looked completely confused as this little sex machine latched onto his back and tried to hammer it home. Poor Pork Chop - it was his first time, and he just stood there and took it.
SIDEBAR: At K's party some guy walked in who looked sooooooooooo familiar…he was with his wife, but still he came right up to me and was like, “I know you from somewhere. I know you.” We pieced together that it had to be in college, and narrowed it down to his fraternity, so I told him the people I knew back when and he asked me if I dated his friend Mike, and I was like “noooooooooooo…” And then we had that moment of “huh” where you cock your head and squint your eyes and wonder, “did I sleep with this person?” huh.
Thankfully, we found out later that he’s really good friends with my friend D, and a few years ago I met him through her – as opposed to knowing him from riding his baloney pony in 1990. THANK GOD FOR THAT.
GAY PRIDE WRAPUP: Just Joe and I had a hilarious time at Gay Pride the weekend after the blue sushi and de Leon. It was super tame but there was some freakshow stuff that we could not avoid staring at. Some very buff men were pole dancing in their underwear - all day - one with leather man panties and chains strung across his chest, another in tighty whities; there were some hot trannies in platform boots and jlo denim jumpsuits; we counted almost a dozen big butch lesbians on crutches...no men on crutches, though. Odd, that.
Anyhoo, it was a great turnout and a positive vibe and we shared a delish snow cone. Right when we got there we ran into this one girl we knew (through our friend the "Is She Ellen or Anne?" folk-singing lesbian). And this girl only likes straight girls so she intimidates me! She stands really close and makes a lot of jokes about how straight girls don't know what they're missing. Help! Oh, and one stage had drag queens performing all day so I was happy. And Joe got goosed by some guy and then obsessed about it all day: "Was he too old?" "He wasn't that good looking, was he?" And I was like, hey, you got your ass slapped at Gay Pride. That's pretty good for a Saturday!"
What else? How about that the Puppy is really truly leaving after 10 weeks (official weeks) under my roof and I'm either A) in denial or B) totally okay with it. Granted, I'll miss him so very, very much, but I need my space. Hilariously, all of my friends are supremely ready for him to leave. Some have even suggested that we all go out and get drinks to celebrate. But they don't see the Pup for who he is. They just see his bravado and his sometimes bad behavior. I see those things, too, but I'm privy to the benefits of his friendship. From my perspective, he's warm, attentive and engaging.
And I've had this type of friend before. When I met my friend Lisa in college it was almost exactly the same kind of thing – she could be a moody little thing, and sometimes I wanted to beat her about the head with a carrot - or an anvil - whatever, but at the same time I had more of a connection with her than anyone else previously or since. We absolutely adored each other and have had year after year of good friendship, in-jokes, silliness and good times. As it was with the Puppy, from the get-go Lisa and I were practically inseparable. And, like the Puppy, we tried living together for one semester and it almost ended our friendship, but the next semester she moved into the next-door apartment and everything was beautiful again. And I'm not alone in drawing the comparisons. A while ago my mom noted that “The Puppy is your new Lisa.” Classic.
Sixteen years I’ve known that girl – she can be challenging, opinionated and stubborn but more than anything hilarious, intelligent, warm, and the most loyal friend I’ve ever had. I wouldn't change a hair on her chin.
Awww, I'm all choked up now.
And in the meantime, I've been having some adventures with the girls. For instance, about two weeks ago I went to dinner on Friday night with some girlfriends who loooooooove to talk to guys. Before we hit the hell that is Scottsdale on a Saturday night, they dragged me to an incredibly bad restaurant that is lauded for its "ha ha so funny strange ingredients in rolls with kitschy names" "sushi." The other gimmick is that the wasabi is BLUE. As for the food, it was just plain gross – one roll they ordered had slices of warm beef on top, another was comprised of what they said was eel and mango, but it was covered in some sloppy sauce and was presented to the girls as a squashed, gelatinous mass of slime. They loved it, and cleaned their plates, washing it down with Jello martinis. Yeah. To be safe, I ordered a spicy salmon roll, but that nasty blue wasabi turned the fish black and made everything taste sour.
(I can complain with the best of them, but when it's about bad food I find a special pleasure. I get this from my father. To him, a poor restaurant experience is almost more enjoyable than an excellent experience. Almost.)
Anyhoo, after a delicious dinner it was on to three cheesy Scottsdale bars. The first was a Phoenix version of NYC's Hogs & Heifers called The Dirty Dog Saloon. Its patrons are mainly middle-aged bikers in leather vests and sad, sad 25-year-old sacks that are too cheap to pay for strip bars. The bartendresses get up on the bar and do stripperish dances that attract all eyes, but the dancing girls themselves seem totally blase as they shake their moneymakers, then jump back down to pull beers. The next stop was a Hawaiianish place called Drift that I love visiting during the week, but come the weekend it's suffocating. Asses and elbows all the way. Clouds of cologne. Striped shirts everywhere. And though the girls I was with attract their share of guys, unfortunately, all the guys they like are the tan, big-toothed, tight-shirt types who are nice to look at but completely dunderheaded once they open their mouths. I like a man I can banter with. These were not that man. I was seriously in so much pain. The final stop was the worst offender, and oof, I've already done so much complaining that I can't even go on. Read this to understand: http://www.thephatphree.com/features.asp?SectionID=11&StoryID=239&Layout
The very next night was my friend K’s going-away party. Sigh. So much fun but so sad, too! I got tipsy pretty quickly off two drinks and was hashed by 11:00 when my friend de Leon showed up. Since the party was breaking up (too many people too drunk and too sad after the U of A loss), de Leon and I left soon after. Happily, the Puppy called just as we got in the car – he asked me to meet him at a bar where some punk bands were playing, so the night just got more boozy, unfortunately for me. The next morning de Leon and I woke up with our mascara on our cheeks and regretted our existence. Ouch. That was Easter Sunday. And though I was in pain, I did manage to take Pork Chop to the dog park…where he was humped by a 6-ounce Yorkie. My poor dog looked completely confused as this little sex machine latched onto his back and tried to hammer it home. Poor Pork Chop - it was his first time, and he just stood there and took it.
SIDEBAR: At K's party some guy walked in who looked sooooooooooo familiar…he was with his wife, but still he came right up to me and was like, “I know you from somewhere. I know you.” We pieced together that it had to be in college, and narrowed it down to his fraternity, so I told him the people I knew back when and he asked me if I dated his friend Mike, and I was like “noooooooooooo…” And then we had that moment of “huh” where you cock your head and squint your eyes and wonder, “did I sleep with this person?” huh.
Thankfully, we found out later that he’s really good friends with my friend D, and a few years ago I met him through her – as opposed to knowing him from riding his baloney pony in 1990. THANK GOD FOR THAT.
GAY PRIDE WRAPUP: Just Joe and I had a hilarious time at Gay Pride the weekend after the blue sushi and de Leon. It was super tame but there was some freakshow stuff that we could not avoid staring at. Some very buff men were pole dancing in their underwear - all day - one with leather man panties and chains strung across his chest, another in tighty whities; there were some hot trannies in platform boots and jlo denim jumpsuits; we counted almost a dozen big butch lesbians on crutches...no men on crutches, though. Odd, that.
Anyhoo, it was a great turnout and a positive vibe and we shared a delish snow cone. Right when we got there we ran into this one girl we knew (through our friend the "Is She Ellen or Anne?" folk-singing lesbian). And this girl only likes straight girls so she intimidates me! She stands really close and makes a lot of jokes about how straight girls don't know what they're missing. Help! Oh, and one stage had drag queens performing all day so I was happy. And Joe got goosed by some guy and then obsessed about it all day: "Was he too old?" "He wasn't that good looking, was he?" And I was like, hey, you got your ass slapped at Gay Pride. That's pretty good for a Saturday!"
What else? How about that the Puppy is really truly leaving after 10 weeks (official weeks) under my roof and I'm either A) in denial or B) totally okay with it. Granted, I'll miss him so very, very much, but I need my space. Hilariously, all of my friends are supremely ready for him to leave. Some have even suggested that we all go out and get drinks to celebrate. But they don't see the Pup for who he is. They just see his bravado and his sometimes bad behavior. I see those things, too, but I'm privy to the benefits of his friendship. From my perspective, he's warm, attentive and engaging.
And I've had this type of friend before. When I met my friend Lisa in college it was almost exactly the same kind of thing – she could be a moody little thing, and sometimes I wanted to beat her about the head with a carrot - or an anvil - whatever, but at the same time I had more of a connection with her than anyone else previously or since. We absolutely adored each other and have had year after year of good friendship, in-jokes, silliness and good times. As it was with the Puppy, from the get-go Lisa and I were practically inseparable. And, like the Puppy, we tried living together for one semester and it almost ended our friendship, but the next semester she moved into the next-door apartment and everything was beautiful again. And I'm not alone in drawing the comparisons. A while ago my mom noted that “The Puppy is your new Lisa.” Classic.
Sixteen years I’ve known that girl – she can be challenging, opinionated and stubborn but more than anything hilarious, intelligent, warm, and the most loyal friend I’ve ever had. I wouldn't change a hair on her chin.
Awww, I'm all choked up now.
