We went to Tracks to dance last night. They have two rooms, one with a DJ flown in from somewhere and the “Retro” room. I of course was in the retro room. They played Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance with Somebody, now I have to admit that I loved Whitney. Early Whitney, being the dork that I am I knew that this song was released in May of 1987. I then looked around and realized that every guy around us was born in 1987. I went to stand by the bar. The highlight of the evening was upon leaving the Burrito Lady was waiting for us. I declared my undying love for her and she just gave me the look of understanding like a priest would give to one of their flock. Sometimes at night I dream of her.
So, I went to see Naked B4 God. Which had neither nakedness nor God in. Yes, it was horrible. Mike Jones’ acting was as good as you would think a guy with 30-years in the escort business would be. Don’t quit your day job. He was a step away from chewing on the scenery. And yet as the train wreck kept twisting and piling up I realized that Mike seems like an incredibly nice guy. Someone you’d want to sit next to at Thanksgiving, he comes from a great well-adjusted place that ya can't help but applaud his courage. So way to go Mike, just take acting lessons.
It’s Easter morning and I have successfully avoided any calls from the family. Yeah, I’m sure I just jinxed myself. Wouldn’t it lovely to not drive to the Mom’s house to listen to the family actively avoid asking me any questions about my personal life. “So Steve, How’s….work treating you?” I would then reply “Well I fucked 2 menz butts and had a muscled gym buddy pee on my chest.” “Well that’s great! It’s important to keep busy.” Thanks aunt Helen. That and Mormons are world famous for being horrid cooks.
I took a strange exit off the Highway mostly because I really needed gas yesterday . As I came off the fly over a Jetta merged into my lane and came inches to taking us out. I swirved and contained myself getting back to being desperate about gas. As I pulled up to the nearest pump I got out and quickly realized that the Jetta was pulling up behind me and the driver was hopping out. Great, this is not going to end well. My Pumas are sooo going to get scuffed. “Dude” barks the 20 year old with his cap turned to the side. I think “Puff up puff up they hate that” So I roll my shoulders up and hold the gas hose with manly confidence. "Dude.. Sorry about that back there. I didn’t see you.” Uhhhh, OK no big. “Are we cool?” Yep, no big... thanks. Dude turns, jumps in to the Jetta and zips away.