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Sunday, February 18, 2007

Myspace Migration: The Bar Scene

Current mood:amused
So, went to Sherlocks last night to celebrate the awesomeness that is Bev now that's she's 30. Met the Doms and company (great folks, very fun), saw James (he does exist! he was starting to rival other mythical figures like Superman and Santa Claus), Eric stopped by, met Richelle and Greg and they were great. Good times were had by all and Bev, I can only hope I look half as good at 30!!

One of the things that totally cracked me up was once the band started playing, conversation was like playing Charades. We tried to read lips (which people don't make the most crisp mouth movements once alcohol comes into play), we cupped our hands to each other's ears and screamed in them to achieve the net result of a whisper. Finally, a little concerned about the real possibility of long-term hearing impairment, we moved to an absolute blessing of technology: text messaging.
That's right folks, while sitting at the same table, we're texting each other to try and communicate. I've decided this is not wholly a bad thing. I was cracking up at some of the things I read this morning that I sent or were sent to me, such as:

"Who's the guy that keeps hitting on Bev?"

"He is here every weekend hitting on chicks; last weekend he was here with a wheelchair."

"Ah, so he likes older women, then?"

I have NO idea what we were talking about or more importantly, WHO we were talking about. This next one, I do. And it's kind of sad:

"How do we discreetly ask for like a dozen napkins? 'Cause it.is.up.my.assssppppppdd." (No kidding, that's exactly what was on my phone)
Ok, see anyone reading that text now would think something REALLY disgusting had occured. Not that it was great, but it just wasn't the way it reads today. A rather large glass of ice water was knocked into my lap (I truly couldn't tell you how, but I would assume someone's hand gesturing had something to do with it). Thank GOODNESS I was wearing dark jeans in a dark club. We did, in fact, get enough napkins to make a small quilt and I was able to soak up most of the water - what was left, I'm convinced, kept me cool throughout the evening.

My favorite was a text that wasn't sent, it was just on my Treo - saying that he thought I looked good in black leather. I kinda want to know who said that, lol... esp. since I wasn't wearing black leather?? Anyway, I guess my point to this text message tirade was that I find it absolutely amusing that this was really how we HAD to communicate in order to have a conversation. And it's evidently more commonplace that what I had thought, because I observed several other tables doing the same thing. Nightlife in Dallas in the year '07.

We ended the night at IHOP, which that or Cafe Brazil is almost a Saturday night requirement. Carb-load for energy before you go home; protien to soak up what you drank, whatever... you just need it. So, we had six people on-site with the possibility of two more showing up. We asked for the larger 4-top that can seat 6. There were two empty ones RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR EYES, that had a smaller 2-top right across from it that Richelle and Greg could have sat at. Noone was there, the hostess chick wasn't seating anyone there, but there were people in that section, so it wasn't like she COULDN'T. She finally offers us a smaller 4-top that there's no WAY all six of us there could sit at. So, I pointed that out and asked for the bigger table. (Patience level not so great; I'm tired, still a little damp, and needing to eat and go home) She finally sits us in the smoking section (fine, whatever) - but not at the table with SIX CHAIRS ALREADY there... she takes us to another stinkin' small 4-top. um, hello, we just turned that down? Could we not sit at the table that actually seats six, maybe?? I guess I must have said it like that because Bev told me that the hostess threw down our menus and would definitely be spitting in our food and putting my pancakes down their pants.

My response? Ok, if I don't see it, it didn't happen. I'm all ok in my warm, friendly "Crystal Bubble" where people don't do that stuff and I'm sitting at a 6-top. But I was extra nice to my waitress, just in case.

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