i've done it once again, ladies and gentlemen!
i've quit my job and am planning to move.
jumping ship with no lifeboat: thus is the story of my life.
ok, so i do kind of have a lifeboat.
i'm moving home to my parents' house in new mexico.
tentative move date is june 1.  i say tentative because, well, that's more than a month away.
i haven't told my landlady yet.  that is something that scares me for some reason. mostly because i want that security deposit back and i'm pretty sure she won't relent if i break my lease.
my bosses took my one month notice pretty well.  i gave it to them so early to try and see if i can get some freelance work thrown my way after i leave.  i couldn't possibly stand working for them full time.  they're trying to play it cool and say they're going to find someone local... we'll see how that goes...

you're all probably asking a few questions that i may or may not address:
what made you FINALLY decide to do it?
a number of factors.
1. my parents are moving to omaha for my dad's work.  it's a temporary assignment, so they're keeping the house in abq.  and they need someone to watch it.  and i'm the only unmarried daughter. 
2. i realized i am doing none of the things i want to do, like traveling.  i mean, i was for a bit - i went to hong kong, for crissake - but i'm just paying off debt most of the time, treading water. 
3. i work a dead end job with no chance for a raise or advancement and it brings me no joy.  i like my coworkers tons.  but this job has no meaning for me, and it makes me feel like an insect building something that's going to be washed away by the ocean or a heavy rain.  which is fine for insects that only live three days, but i've got a whole life goin' on here.
4. it got hot this weekend, like seriously hot, the way it only gets here on the east coast, and my bunnies were miserable, and i was miserable.  and my twin sister was miserable. and it occurred to me that the weather is NEVER THIS MISERABLE in new mexico. ever.
5. there's some kind of reconvening going down in abq right now that is kind of brilliant.  like the stars are aligning to bring the best, most loved summer ever.  friends have returned from afar and are starting over.  the southwest beckons to me.  i must answer.
6. someone's mom told him he needs to go on an adventure.
7. a friend read my tarot during my birthday party this weekend after i'd consumed about, oh, a bottle of gruet champagne, and the "fatherland" card came up, and that's all i remember.  i took it as a sign.  i like signs.

what will you do when you get to New Mexico, kat?  like, for a living??
now now don't get feisty.  first: i'm going to continue doing the freelance work i've been doing for my LAST job, as long as they'll have me.  second, i asked my current job if they'd like to use my services in a freelance capacity when i leave.  (they're thinking about it.) thirdly, i have other freelance opportunities before me. aaaand yes i've got a part time thing that's probably going down, no real deets yet, but don't worry. kat will be fed.  and she will continue to pay her student loans on time.  (all donations accepted, nevertheless.)

other questions?  send 'em.  do it.

i am as thrilled and relieved as everyone else who voted for him that Obama's victory last night was assured before i went to bed.  i actually cried on my way to work this morning listening to the BBC news because of how great it is that Obama won this election.  Gen. Wesley Clark talked about how, 51 years ago, he watched schools become desegregated.  and now... we have an African American president elect.

pretty cool.

makes you feel hopeful about americans "growing up", as one of the commentators on CNN said last night. 

then going through the ballot measures this morning, i realized we still have quite a ways to go.

americans apparently voted in the following way:

blacks: people

women: people

gays: not so much.

we have a black president, and all the anti-abortion measures on any ballot were struck down, but every single measure that was written to outlaw gay marriage passed. 

so, uhm, what's up with that america? 

i guess we've got a long way to go.

but, as they say, si se puede!

TIME does not bring relief; you all have lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain

I want him at the shrinking of the tide

The old snows melt from every mountain-side,

And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane

But last year's bitter loving must remain

Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!

There are a hundred places where I fear

To go,—so with his memory they brim!

Where never fell his foot or shone his face

I say, "There is no memory of him here!"

And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

(Edna St. Vincent Millay)

my very good friend martijn is in town from holland for the week, and it is my duty, as an american, to show him and his cousin, jasper, plus our other friend huub, a good time in new york, even though they know more about new york than i do.  sure, they're from holland, but they've spent more time in the city than i have, for sure.

luckily, i'm resourceful.

for dinner last night, i took the crew to otto, a pretty hip little italian pizzeria place on fifth ave in the west village.  i picked this place based not on reviews or word of mouth, but solely because my college roommate karen's younger sister is the manager there.  she went to columbia.  i figured it had to be good.

i drove in around 8ish and met the boys inside, parking my car on w. 8th because, being a new schooler, i've never ever in my life had a problem parking in the west village. 

the place is posh, great atmosphere, and authentically italian dishes, from the antipasti to the pizzas and pastas, not to mention the gelati.  i spotted the younger sister, marisa, pretty quickly and reintroduced myself, since we hadn't seen each other in several years.  and what'd she do? gave us free food, of course!  we decided to order all antipasti, and got prosciutto, olives, various vegetable dishes, five cheeses (including an amazing gorgonzola dolce), octopus and shrimp, and a salad, and marisa brought us a baked ricotta with a side of mint and a balsamic reduction.  amazing flavors.  we ordered a rosé wine, since we couldn't decide between white or red; a neddeira contini, 2005, which ended up pairing perfectly with everything.  for dessert i ordered a cappuccino ("if you were in italy, they'd think you were really strange, ordering that so late," said martijn), and the boys got various desserts involving espresso, chocolate, gelato, and other fantastic elements.  marisa delivered again and handed me a double assortment: the crème fraîche gelato paired with the conchord grape gelato.  A. MAY. ZING.

we paid, and i instructed my dutch friends to tip 20%, much to their surprise.

"20%?! really??? in holland it's 10%."

"or just whatever you have."

i explained that in america it's generally expected that you tip 15% if you're stingy or the service was bad, 18% if you want to come back to the restaurant, and if you're kat cox, you tip 20%, especially with friends.

after dinner we piled into a cab and headed to the norfolk between delancey and rivington, to a place i'd never been but heard of: the lower east side toy company, known officially as the back room bar, which is a really interesting spot with a speakeasy set up.  the front sign is hand-painted and posted on a gate, reading "lower east side toy company".  you have to walk down some steps, through an alley, and up some more steps to enter the soundproof bar, but it's worth it.  the inside is decked out like a holdover from victorian times, and while you don't have to have the password to enter, there are plenty of other nice touches to make you feel like you're flying under prohibition's radar.  the cocktails are served in tea cups, and the beers come with a brown paper bag.  there are comfy couches, low lighting, and even a secret bookcase door to a VIP room.  my dutch friends were very impressed, as was i.

we were all extremely sleepy, from jet lag or working, so at around midnight we said our adieus and headed homeward, they to their hotels, and me to my car.

only my car wasn't there. 

i looked up at the four signs posted above the street where i'd left her.  "metered parking, one hour limit, 8am-10pm." easy enough.  "no parking 6am - 8:00am tuesdays and thursdays".  straightforward... "pay at municimeter".  right.  then i saw it, the bane of my parking existence: "no standing 11pm - 6am (even sunday)" with a little teensy cutesy sign beneath it that read "special nighttime regulation".  it was now 12.20am.  those mo fos move fast.

i'd been towed!

i once again counted on my resources and dialed 311, the nyc info line.

after a lot of straightforward button pushing, i found out that my car was indeed in the impound lot.  i got the address and figured out what the fines etc would be, hailed a cab and headed west and north to the impound lot, aka pier 76.

of course, they'd closed off 11th ave and my cab driver had no idea how to get around it, so i got off at the Javitz Center and hoped for the best.

i asked two city employees who were working outside, in two different spots, if they knew where pier 76 was. of course they didn't.

so i wandered around for about 15 minutes, looking for it.  there was a bit of a line inside, but i was being my cheerful self, and it wasn't so bad.  

i even made a friend standing in line, a fellow tow-ee who hails from stamford, ct.  we talked about the joys of parking in nyc and exchanged our reasons for being in there.  i told him i was entertaining dutch friends.

he said, "oh, they're from.... denmark... finland... uhhhh?"

i laughed.  "holland."

"the 'dutch' are from 'holland'?!  that's ridiculous."

"yeah," i said, "but that's okay, they make fun of me because everyone makes that mistake.  we all think they're from denmark."

"so you don't think i'm a total idiot then," said my new friend.

"nah, you're normal.  you're one step up from saying you can see russia from your house."

we gave up our licenses for a moment while they figured out who owned our cars and whether or not we deserved to get them back.

the place was understaffed and filled with somewhat grumpy folks trying to find a loophole.  one guy was asleep and snoring.  it was a funny crowd.  eventually my name was called and i handed over a credit card for the $185 towing fee.

then i was led to a back room where i sat for a minute with my new friend and had to fork over my receipt to gain access to the parking lot of lost cars.  some of them were so covered in dust you wondered if anyone was ever going to pick them up.

i spotted my car at the back of the line and hopped towards her gleefully.  i pulled the parking ticket (another $115) off the windshield and got inside. 

in order to get out of the pound, you have to present your receipt to a gate attendant, just to make sure.  but apparently the lady handing out the receipts had gotten mine mixed up with my new friend's, cause the gate attendant said, "well, this isn't a toyota, and i'm guess your name isn't asher, so let's just hold off a second til he pulls up."

we got the receipt thing sorted out, and my new friend asher and i agreed that we'd race to the lincoln tunnel.

i even put the top down for kicks.

made it home by 2 ish.  the bunnies were glad to have their oats.

and boy am i ever tired.

luckily the dutchies have given me the night off, so i can take a nap this evening.  and hopefully not spend any money.

people have been asking me how, as a gynecocrat, i feel about sarah palin.

and they've been surprised that i've gagged and spit and been angry and railed.

i figured out this week exactly why it is that i can't support her, and it's not just because i'm a rabid feminist.

when i was 13 or 14, the pastor at the big souther baptist church where i grew up preached a sermon wherein he said (and yes, it's been 12 years, so this is paraphrasing):

"some of you may notice that we only have good lookin' women here on stage with me.  and why is it that we have good lookin' women?  well because they get the men's attention...  women are built to look good for men.  and they have a duty to keep lookin' good for their husbands."

even at 13 or 14, i was livid.

i have for many years pinpointed that sermon as the reason i quit going to "big church" and why i eventually left that church, even though i'd grown up there.

on top of what this pastor said, there was the feeling i got from the youth department, where we had big sleepovers set up for the girls to do things that are important for girls to do.  like what?  like learning to put on facial masks, do aerobics, and put on make-up.  not so they can save the world.  so they can get, and keep, a husband. 

we were not encouraged to be more intelligent than the males, even if we were, and while i do remember there being some very intelligent female leaders, i also remember feeling that the women who got the most attention and support from our church were not the ones encouraging me to question the actions of the male leadership or make them uncomfortable.

so my big problem with sarah palin is perhaps less about her policies and her aching lack of intelligent understanding of issues, and even less about the fact that she comes off as a yokel from the west (which i'm sure i do from time to time, being a yokel from the west myself).  my problem with palin is that she embodies that southern baptist stupid woman for me.  john mccain had several extremely intelligent women to choose from if he had to have an xx chromosome holder on his campaign ticket.  palin, however, doesn't challenge men by her intelligence, and in fact, she puts them at ease by looking pretty.  more power to her for looking so good at her age, after so many kids, whatever.  but i still get hives when i think of the fact that there are still institutions in this country that promote and exclaim and love female stupidity, and believe that women's duties are more about looking good for the sake of their husbands than trying to actually make a change.

it's fine that palin has firm beliefs.  more power to her.  and she is perfectly free to be as uneducated as she wants.  but i cannot support an administration that thinks this is not just acceptable, but admirable, in a woman.  i don't think all christians think women are better off if they're stupid.  in fact, i don't even think all the people at that huge church where i grew up believed it.  it is insulting, and it is one more reason i left that church when i was 14.

 

hey you guys,

quick show of hands.

would you be willing to pay, like, $2 or less to read my short fiction one story at a time?  on a blog?  somewhere?

just wondering.

read this article today and thought it's an interesting idea. 

i think i'd feel weird fleecing my friends, but i don't know how else i'd get traffic.

ideas?  please weigh in.

teehee.

last night was the PREMIERE of the NEW 90210, which is like 90210: 20 years later, and while the stories are not exactly continuations of the original series (from what i can tell), there are characters that have returned for major parts, mostly because, i think, they couldn't find jobs after 90210 and melrose place ended.

the character "kelly", for instance, who was a major beotch and hot, rich blondie in the first series is now THE GUIDANCE COUNSELOR!!! yay!  at west beverley hills high school.  and she has CANKLES.

babs and i watched the premiere sort of on a whim, since federer had just beat the tar out of his opponent at the US open, and there really wasn't that much else on.  it's every bit as overly-juicy and supposedly-shocking as the first series, with a bit better script writing, maybe, and perhaps a bit more true-to-lifeness.  i can't really tell.  in the span of the two-hour premiere, there was drug abuse, alcohol served to minors, plagiarism, unrequited teenage love, musical theatre, long-distance relationships losing their lustre, a blow job, and an unwed baby's momma story.  i really don't know where they've got left to go.  did they have to waste all the story in the first two hours?  what's left to resolve?

who cares?

anyway, don't know if i'll watch it next week.  it does have that one woman from full house in it.  is that a plus or a minus?  i don't know.

when i was a kid i wasn't allowed to watch the TV show "beverly hills 90210".  i glanced at an episode once or twice as i got older but never saw the appeal in it.  i even saw part of an episode in france the first time i went and rolled my eyes and made my little host sister change the channel.

but there was a 90210 marathon on soapnet the other night and i, being who i am, decided to partake in it, just to see what all the hype was about.

lo and behold, it was just as vapid and ridiculous as one could have imagined.  guilty pleasure, sure.  was my high school that drama filled and did people go on dates?  not that i know of. 

but i was a bit thrown off when, during the intro shots to the second episode of the entire series, when brandon (the twin brother played by that pretty blue eyed guy, whatshisnuts) was riding his date's motorcycle through the california hills (so daring! so romantic!), i heard the synthesizer and guitar of a christian rock band i am particularly fond of, the innocence mission, and a song off their first album, "when it's clear to you". 

they played the whole friggin song!

shock! and! awe!

who knew?!

anyway, i only got through a few episodes before it was NAP TIME.  i can maybe understand the guilty pleasure of the show now, but i'm kind of proud of the fact that mom and dad had enough sense to keep my poor little nine-year-old brain away from it.  i don't think i could have dealt with the blatant brainless overtones that well as a kid.

happy labor day weekend everyone!
i have thus far had a pretty nice weekend myself, in spite of the fact that i came down with a pretty narsty sinus infection friday morning.  i left work early and slept for a few hours, and then picked my cousin flossie up at the train station for her very first uber weekend in new jersey.

flossie just moved to new york city last weekend.  she's starting at columbia this semester to do a Masters of Science in historical preservation.  pretty fancy.  it's fun to say that i have a cousin going to columbia.  and her name is flossie. bwahahaha.

in any case, in came flossie on the 7pmish train to bloomfield.  the skies were looking stormy.  we didn't put the top down as we drove to our dinner destination, udupi village vegetarian indian restaurant up on bloomfield ave in montclair.  we parked down on seymour street -- a bit of a walk, but it wasn't too rainy out -- and stopped by amanti vino to pick up a bottle for dinner.  we picked a wyatt chardonnay and a jelu pinot noir, both from 2006, and then went down the street to find babs, who was apparently having a lot of trouble finding the restaurant.  i'd told her it was next door to the trattoria rustica, on bloomfield ave, on the same side of the street as the old dance club, across the street from the movie theatre, but i couldn't remember the name of the place.  "it's the only indian food restaurant in down town montclair," i'd said.  she was basically standing in front of it when she called me to say she couldn't find it.  it's okay.  she'd had a few at tierney's before dinner.

we started perusing the menu.  babs said, "you guys pick.  i just want something with chicken."  flossie and i looked at each other.

"it's vegetarian," i said.
"no," said babs.
"yes," i said.
"no chicken?"
"no," i said.   "i thought i told you it was vegetarian."
"arrrrgh," said babs.  but she was a good sport about it and ate with us anyway.
the food was, of course, delicious.  we had naan and mutter paneer, and some paneer dumplings, and some vegetable korba, and some kheer rice pudding for dessert.  we only got through the wyatt chardonnay, so i put the pinot noir in my gianormous purse to take it home.

we texted chris and told him we were coming to tierney's.  since it still wasn't raining, we walked the five or six blocks over, showing flossie all the finer points of montclair, or at least all that could be shown on three blocks of bloomfield ave and three blocks of valley road.

tierney's wasn't too packed, just a little, and we got there right when it started to downpour.  we ordered a couple of beers and put "don't stop believing" by journey on the juke box.  a very-acne-scarred older fellow in a purple shirt with shorts ..ed talking to us because i was wearing a georgetown shirt.  apparently his brother went to georgetown on a track scholarship, which was particularly amazing because his brother didn't have a left hand due to a birth defect.  he kept talking to us.  chris and babs went over to talk to some of the tierney's bartenders that we knew, who apparently told them that "barney" (as chris started to call him because of his purple shirt) had been kicked out of the bar a few times in the past because of inappropriate behavior.
luckily, flossie and i made it out unscathed... after two beers we were feeling pretty tired so we decided it was time to go.

we all took babs' car over to chris's to get some sheets for the futon, where flossie would be sleeping.  flossie perused chris's bookshelves and, i believe, found them to be adequate.  except for the one in the bedroom that leans because i built it wrong out of the box from ikea.  meh.  oh well.

then babs took us to my car and we headed home to bloomfield, where flossie met zelda and vonnegut, who took a liking to her pretty immediately.  it probably helped that she fed them their oats out of her hand.  we made her bed and brushed our teeth and prepared the coffee to start at 6.30 in the morning, when we had to get up to go to the beach with babs.

at 6.30 flossie awoke to the sound of the coffee machine.  apparently she'd awoken earlier in the night and they had been lying in front of the futon staring at her.  (i told her later about the fact that they have a third eyelid and sleep with their eyes open.  and that if they were watching her sleep, that means that they like her.)  (still i think it was a bit creepy for her.)  flossie poured the coffee while we got dressed for the beach.  it was raining pretty terribly.  i checked the weather for point pleasant, which warned of "some showers", and shrugged my shoulders.
babs texted that she was going to be later than her 6.45 planned time.  which was fine.  gave us some extra time to get ready.
i fed the bunnies their carrots and basil and pellets.  zelda, who usually eats her first carrot in front of the litter box, grabbed her carrot and ran into the living room to eat with flossie.  obviously someone's in love.

babs arrived around 7 and we piled into her car with our gear and headed to pick up her cousin, diana.  diana was not awake when we got to her house, even tho babs had given her fair warning that we were on our way.  (flossie and i were extremely sympathetic.)  diana took a shower while flossie and i talked to the guinea pig, chloe, and discussed how comfortable and wonderful and deep the couch's in diana's parents' living room were...zzzzz....

finally we piled back into the car, cousins in the back seat, and headed down the shore for flossie's first time.

the sky started had started to clear up by the time we found a parking spot and walked to the boardwalk carrying our beach chairs and bags.  we debated the merits of martell's tiki bar vs. jenkins' beach bar.  martell's was apparently the employer of one of babs' coworkers' niece and nephew, and diana had never been there.  we were pretty much the first youngsters on the beach, and paid our $7.50 entrance fee to a rather grumpy young woman who explained that martell's was the only place on the beach where people were allowed to take their drinks outside of the bar due to liquor licensing.  it was a bit of a squabble -- diana explained that it was possible on jenkins' beach, to which the young woman replied that maybe it was possible, but it wasn't legal.  words were heavy.  it seemed a bit much for the early morning.  diana was not pleased, and the rest of us were a bit soured.

but luckily we found ourselves a nice spot facing the water and the sun started to come out.  diana pulled out her james patterson book and the rest of us dozed and looked at the water.  people started to trickle in.

our first officialy company were a foursome of guidos, which flossie had never encountered before.  two rather juiced-up guys and two ladies, one of whom was rather normal looking, while the other was bleached blonde and tattooed, moved in on our left and started talking loudly in their italian new jersey accents about topics none of us really cared about. 

we explained to flossie what a guido is.
"an italian american, mostly," we started.  "but the guys all use steroids and they all have tattoos." and diana had a bit more to say about how they identify as italians, even though none of them have ever been to the country or speak the language.

it's tough to explain guidos to people.
this video sometimes helps:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFyTMp2GlPs
(no, mom, i don't think you should watch it.)

flossie was of course fascinated.  the steroids were of particular interest to her.
"how do they get them if they're illegal?" she asked me.
"the same way people get weed or coke," i shrugged.
and in fact i realized how little i actually know about steroids, too.  it would be an interesting cultural study, of course.
we moved a few times due to encroaching jersey shore doofuses who were talking about getting wasted and laid a bit more than was comfortable for us.  the girls were thin and tan and fake blonde with giant breasts, the guys were overly-muscled and tattooed with perfectly gelled hair and sunglasses, and we felt a little bit out of place and uninterested.
but we did have a few mimosas and a few frozen daquiris, and eventually we had lunch (i had oysters and nachos, woohoo!) and we went into the water a few times.  flossie really liked the ocean, even though the waves were bit too high for me and there were jelly fish, which kept babs and diana out.

eventually we got a bit too hot and sunny, and babs headed inside.  flossie and i finished a drink and went in, too, although we couldn't find her.  we sat out on the boardwalk and listened to the carnival games while we waited for diana and babs to emerge.  and then we headed home in babs' car, pumping the dance music.

flossie and i then got ourselves cleaned up and checked out email and headed into the city for some dinner.  there was almost no traffic, but flossie didn't get a chance to see the skyline for the first time because of the fog covering new york.  we found a parking spot in the east village and started to head toward the spot i wanted to take her for dinner, the yaffa cafe.

we passed a dingy dive bar with a lonestar neon sign in the front window, and turned to each other and said, "YES."  we needed to have a lonestar before dinner.

unfortunately, doc holliday's, the bar, no longer served lonestar, which was too bad, because i've honestly never seen it outside of texas, and flossie had never had it, because the only times she ever went to texas were to go to our grandparents' place in teague, which is in a dry (i.e. NO BOOZE) county.  we had a couple of coney island lagers instead and got to talking about our grandparents.

lots of things were revealed that we both need to fact check.  for instance, flossie doesn't think we're dutch.  which is a big deal for me, because i tell everyone we're dutch, especially my dutch friends.  i also thought our grandmother had finished her masters degree, but flossie thinks that isn't the case.  and apparently grandpa was a spy for the FBI when he was in med school, and joined the communist party of galveston to report on their doings once a month.  some pretty interesting stuff, i have to say. ... the things you learn from your cousins...

we eventually headed to dinner, where i ordered a bottle of white bourdeaux that i tried at yaffa's last week.  we both ordered pasta dishes -- i got the shrimp scampi linguine and flossie got the spinach ravioli -- and had some salad beforehand.  we had a great conversation about france, europe, and our family.  and we have agreed that we should spend new year's in seville this year. 
we also planned a trip to montreal in october.
now i just have to make this all happen.
to honor the fact that we were having a family dinner, we decided to split the check and pay with our fathers' credit cards.  so, daddy, when you get a bill for $25 for a cafe in new york, now you know why.  also, uncle jeff is getting the same bill.  wahoo.
(we thought it was funny.)
(i hope daddy thinks it's funny, too...)

my friend scott was in town working for the U.S. Open, even though he JUST got done in beijing at the olympics.  he agreed to come out to the east village to meet us with one of his fellow freelancers, this one a camera man.  they're both working for the australians, it seems.  we met them back at doc holliday's, where flossie and the cameraman, named bruce, played a few rounds of pool and scott and i talked about work.  (which i need to apologize for, i think i was a bit too negative.) (SORRY SCOTT!)

the boys were both really tired and so were flossie and i, so we agreed to go home.  the boys caught a taxi and flossie and i found my car.  i drove her to penn station, where she caught the subway home, and made it home before i did, which was pretty good time, in my opinion.

all in all it was a fantastic weekend with my cousin.  i'm looking forward to our various road trips in the coming weeks.
weeeee!

last night i decided to go to egan's by myself, sit at the bar, and have dinner.  i decided this because i haven't been going to egan's as often as i used to, and i miss the old days.  also, going to dinner alone is good for the soul.

i texted my friend chris in tucson about it.  we joked back and forth about getting someone to buy you drinks.  he suggested i go to a place where there'd be working class guys with low self esteem.  i said no way: i was going to egan's where everyone was rich but had low self esteem.  ha ha ha.

i knew i'd be paying my own way, though.  it's what happens when you go out alone.

i had a sidecar and a bowl of soup.  then i decided i was still hungry.  so i ordered some wings and an IPA.  the wings came.  they were delicious, as usual.  i watched the yankees game.  there were loads of middle aged folks milling around, doing their thursday night happy hour THING.  it was pretty run of the mill thursday night at egan's, just like i remembered it, only i didn't really know any of the bartenders.

an older, shorter fellow with really bushy eyebrows and old school tortoise shell glasses wearing a cream colored guayabera ordered a glass of wine in this manner: "can i have a glass of that white?  you know what i like." 

"the sauvignon blanc?" the bartender said. 

"yeah, you know what i like," said the dude.

the bartender got him a glass and he put it on the bar.  "can i leave this here for a minute?" he asked me.  "will you watch it?"

"sure," i said. "i'll make sure it doesn't move."

off he went.

then he came back.

he was obviously already a bit tipsy. he started chatting with me.  asked where i was from.  when i said new mexico, he said, "get out.  i'm from el paso!"

so we talked about that.  he was just kinda' chatty, and kept talking.

"yeah, i went to georgetown," he said.

"wait, where?" i asked.

"georgetown?" he said.  i made a face.  "george - town," he said more slowly.  "it's in wash--"

"i went there, too," i said.

"get outta' town," he said.

we talked about georgetown a bit.  he graduated in '66... just 40 years before me, no biggie. 

he told me most of his life story... was drafted and ended up in naples, worked on wall street, ended up in law school, is a big time lawyer now.  he was a bit scattered but his stories were fun.  i didn't mind just listening.  he kept apologizing for talking so much.  but he was friendly and non threatening and he didn't make me feel like i was just a sexual object.  he's too old for that, i think -- 65 year old men with bushy eyebrows wearing guayaberas can maybe enjoy a pretty young thing, but they have a way of making her feel like they don't really care if they sleep with you or not. 

"hey, i'm supposed to meet a friend here, they just bought the movie rights to his third book, but you wanna' go to richie ciceri's?"

i've never been to richie ciceri's, though i've been meaning to go basically since i first discovered it when i lived on forest street two years ago.  it's a swanky place, very mafioso, good wine, dark bar, seafood, steak, good scotch, and a singing and dancing act upstairs on the weekends. 

so of course i said yes.

"let me just settle up," i said.

"oh no no no, i'll pay your tab," he told me.

"no no," i said, "i can pay."

but he insisted.

and i thought that maybe, after the bill came, since he was a bit drunk, he'd forget, but no, he told the bartender, "check please.  and i'm paying for hers, too."

so i did actually get my drinks paid for. score!

we walked over to richie's, and my new friend, frank, tried calling his friend.  "he must be with a girl," frank said.  "he's not answering.  and he's late.  whatever."  he left two messages with his friend that we were at richie's.

at richie's, he apparently knew the waiters, although the bartender, who was knew, didn't know him.  she was flustered.  i made faces at her letting her know i understood.  she seemed kind of angry, but it was okay.  we made friends by the end of the evening.  it was her third week there, and i'm sure she'd been mistreated a few times by some of the rich overdone regulars.  and that's the kind of place this is -- you go there to show off your money or drink the good wine. 

"i'm rich," said my friend frank, "but i'm not arrogant about it."

he asked the bartender for a bottle of wine, gavi and gavi, he didn't care what year, but she said they didn't have it.  "maybe you have it downstairs," frank said.  "i'll ask fred to go down and look."

sure enough ten minutes later, fred comes up with a bottle of gavi and gavi.

"it's italian, it's the best," frank told me.  he told me a story about spending $350 on a bottle of wine on a client and his wife at richie's once.  they didn't even notice the wine that night, but a few days later the wife called frank to ask what it was again, she'd liked it.  he told her what it was.  "runs about $180 if you get it at a real liquor store," frank said.  "she was probably surprised."

he asked the waitress to get us some quick things to eat.  "just some appetizers, whatever's quick."

she didn't know what was quick.  "anything, whatever," frank said. 

we ended up with a lobster salad with beets and a vinaigrette that was amazing, and some shrimp that was like scampi, but not quite. 

"you eat," he said, "i don't eat, i just drink."

i tried.  it was really good.

"it's too bad you had dinner at egan's already," he said.  i agreed.

we talked about his girlfriends, his kids, we spoke chinese and french and spanish, we talked about el paso, which he thinks is horribly ugly now, although it was charming when he lived there, and georgetown, how it's less about education and more about prestige.  i didn't talk too much about my life, just little bits... why i'm "not taken" right now, how i don't go to manhattan much, the usual.

he kept saying to me, "you're such a girl!"  i can't imagine what i was doing to elicit this response, but whatever.  i am a girl.  i laughed.

"it's a compliment," he'd say.

he called another friend/client, aprhodite, "she's this gorgeous lesbian.  greek. i'm in love with her.  she knows it," to see if she wanted to come to richie's, but she was at cuban pete's.

"you wanna' go to cuban pete's?" frank asked me.

"i can't, really," i said.  "some of us have to work in the morning."

"right, right," he said.  "well i'll walk you to the car."

he walked me to my car and i gave him my card. 

"you should come to manhattan with me sometime, we'll go out!" he said.  "it'll be fun!  i'll introduce you to some nice young men."  he opened my car door for me.

"i'm not really interested in meeting someone right now," i said.

"no no no," he said, poopooing me.  "i mean nice men, good guys, smart, not sleazy.  you need to have some fun.  the only stipulation if we go to manhattan is, you have to drive.  cause i like to drink.  either that or we'll take a limo.  whatever.  now go home."

he closed the door and off he went.  and off i went.  home.  i was in bed before 11, and i wasn't drunk, and i was well fed. a perfect evening.

it was fun.  it put me in a very good mood.  and i got all my drinks for free!