Sunday, September 12, 2010


Michael told me yesterday the new blog is boring. I don't completely disagree. There are several reasons for this:
1. There isn't really anything going on right now. Seriously. I'm in post bar limbo. After the Southern California debauchery, I've been keeping a low profile. It's Sunday. I'm watching Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead. I'm not exactly setting the world on fire here, folks.
2. A certain level of contentment has been reached. This does not make for good writing, as there is a lack of conflict. (Or: not wanting to bitch endlessly about crazy girl brain relationship stuff.)
3. ... I forget what 3 was for. Oh yeah! I am obviously a little snake bit after what happened last time. As I laid out in the first blog, I'm trying to have broader appeal. Chuck made a comment last night that he hates being part of something that he doesn't have control over. My response remains and has always been: while he's a character, he's not the star. This is exclusively my perception of what happens to me. And these are my friends so what happens when I'm with them becomes fair game. I also don't think I've ever painted Chuck or Michael in a negative light. The only person I ever had a problem with is...someone who I'm definitely not friends with anymore. Still: I'm trying to be respectful of that.
4. I have been avoiding conflict like the plague. I just try not to be home anymore. I don't want to hear my mom and stepdad go on and on about about police stuff (yawn). I don't want to deal with my brother or my family issues. So I just...don't. For my sanity. As Dad has made a new motto, "You can't participate if you don't engage." We CHOOSE to participate in stuff, become entrenched in it. So I've decided to just NOT. But again: lack of conflict, lack of material.

Point is: I'll concede. It's been kinda boring. I'm also trying not to dwell on the fact that I'm waiting for bar results. It makes me want to drink. Heavily. Because I think about what happens if I fail. What happens if I DON'T fail. Anyone who asks me about the bar exam is risking me killing them. My aunt last weekend kept saying, "No, really, how do you think I did?" I have no flipping idea! And if I think of all the things I didn't write that I should have, it TERRIFIES me. So I try not to think about it. And I told both my aunts that I absolutely would not discuss it. Nope. Not gonna discuss it. Never happened. Wait for me to freak out on November 19th. Then I'll discuss it.

But: yesterday was fun. Irene came over and her and I went to Yancy's for beer and football where Chuck and Michael joined us. We I watched the LSU game. Michael rolled his eyes and asked, "Is this OVER yet?" No! It's not! Gloriously! I got told we were done watching football after the LSU game. But! But! TN Oregon is still tied! Oh well. We were going to go eat at Park Chow but ended up instead at Pasquale's Pizzeria. God I forgot how great their pizza is. After that I drove us all back to Michael's house.

Oh! I had parked a couple blocks from the bar. When I got back to my car, there was a Black BWM SUV double parked, blocking me in. I was parked in front of a super crowded Chinese restaurant. There were a group of people watching us, wondering what we were going to do. Now, had I been alone, I probably would have just fumed and waited. But I had an audience. And a few cocktails. And I said, "I'm gonna march in there and make that person move!" From the back seat, "DO IT!" So I get out of the car. To the group of people out front watching to see what happens, I look at them and say, "That your car?" They all shake their heads no. I say, "Well I'm gonna go in there and find out whose it is..." I open the door to the restaurant and immediately look back at them and say, "Yeah. Sure. Let the ONLY white girl in the place go handle this." They laugh. I am standing in the front with a bunch of people waiting for tables. Everyone is being pretty soundly ignored. I look around. I notice in the back there is a counter which is presumably to-go food. I march back there. I say, "Anyone driving a black BMW SUV?" A bunch of kindly faces shake their heads back and forth. Until the only OTHER white person in the place, a bro in cargo shorts and flip flops says, "Yeah! I do." And I say, "Can you move your car please?" "Yeah! Sorry! I thought this would take like...a minute. Thanks for waiting though." I'm thinking, "What's the alternative? Go THROUGH your car?" So: Yay assertive me!

Michael's house, a few cocktails, a bit of chit chat. It's all...well, my favorite thing ever. But it's getting late, Chuck is yawning, I decide it's time to go. I go the long-ish way home (instead of heading down Lincoln, I head back along Junipero Serra to Sloat). At Taraval, with Irene in the car I say something about, "I'm tempted to go to the Deuces...just because."

The Deuces is awful. Truly awful. It used to be the go to place whenever everyone came home at Christmas and Thanksgiving. I haven't been there since my 1st year of law school when a frienemy was a complete bitch to people I'd known forever and her for only a semester of law school. But Irene encouraged so, why not? Irene and I walk in and I LITERALLY have to climb over the outstretched feet of the guy who I hung out with after a wedding in June. Known him since grade school. Fortunately he left so I didn't have to make chit chat. Also immediately saw a friend of my brother's who I haven't seen in probably five years. We stand their awkwardly at first thinking, "This was a TERRIBLE idea." But they have Magners. And we love Magners. So we stay for another one. And then another. Chat for a long while with bro's friend, catch up on our shared high school experience and some people we know mutually.

And then this guy comes over. Kinda cute. Red head. Says something about football on Sunday to which I give my standard reply when asked about the NFL, "I don't know. My god plays football on Saturday." This leads to an in depth discussion in which I naturally showcase that I know what I'm talking about. Then guy busts out with something that is either an amazing line or real talk: He's got a radio show. Just at the college but whatever. And he wants ME to come on and talk sports. Because I "have a good voice for radio, not to squeaky or shrill. Just really nice." WHAT? Wait, come again, what? I'm at a dive bar. In the Outer Sunset. On a perfectly quiet Saturday night. And you want ME, who most guys abjectly dismiss or don't care that I know about sports, to come on and TALK about them? Dude. Tell me when and where, I'm there. Again: we'll wait to see if this was a total line (although, why? He didn't hit on me. At least not blatantly), but there ya go...

Came home, watched some of Sherlock Holmes, wrangled the dogs and went to bed. Now sitting on couch debating how much longer I can eat junk food and do nothing. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we are back to the gym, healthy eating routine. Today? I got about 8 more hours to gorge myself and be mean to my body.

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