Friday, February 24, 2006

I bet you look pretty good from a few thousand miles away.*

We went to GK's hockey game last night. The bar they go to afterwards is the diviest dive bar in the entire world...it's awesome. So, the Ex-Roomie and I got there before the hockey guys because they had to (thankfully) shower and whatnot, and we were the only two women in the bar (and not just last night either...probably in WEEKS), so immediately the three regulars in there started talking to us. One guy had no teeth and was insane. One guy spent the entire night going back and forth outside to talk on his cell phone, who knows what that was about. And one guy proudly told us he likes to sing and that he was such a regular at this bar that his divorce papers were served on him there. Also, he told us proudly, his grandfather's divorce papers were served on him in that bar as well.

Anyway, the hockey guys showed up eventually and we had alot of fun. We drank a million pitchers of Labatt Blue, the official drink of hockey night. The great thing about Labatt's is that you can drink it all night, never get drunk, and not even feel remotely hungover the next day. As Ex-Roomie says, "YAY! Near-beer!"

I also ran into an old friend at the bar as well. We talked and awkwardly said "hi." He made a joke about driving me home and I was like "Well, yeah, nothing makes a girl feel more special than when you're only interested in her as a one-night stand to cheat on your girlfriend." More awkwardness. He gave me some sob story about how he was sure at the time he did it that he probably wanted to break up with that girl, that it was hard because there were kids involved (her kids), and blah blah blah...now they're broken up, etc., etc. I was probably more snarky than I needed to be, but eventually I just went back to my table, drank another 87 glasses of beer, and ignored him. Towards the end of the night he came over and sat at our table and was trying to make eye-contact and stuff, and we all started to get our stuff together to leave. He made a comment about seeing me again at another game, and I was like "Well, next week is GK's last game, so if I don't make it to that, this is it." "Oh, you're not going to come back?" "Well, no. I mean, why would I come back if my friend isn't playing?" "Oh, well...uh..." At this point, my friend and her boyfriend are almost out the door, so while he's struggling I just go "Yeah, I gotta go, bye."

The whole thing really didn't have a mean tone to it in real life like it kind of does when I write it, but in my HEAD, I was being so mean to him. Like, I have all this pent-up aggression right now, and even though it's not fair to just let it out on someone I barely know, this guy kind of retroactively deserved it, plus I only said the REALLY vile things in my head. I was moderately polite and used as few biting, sarcastic one-liners as it's possible for me to use given that that's a huge part of my communication pattern with men who piss me off.

I actually have some "real" stuff I'm considering writing about, but not sure yet if it'll make the blog. I'm still struggling with what I want to put on here, I felt more comfortable writing the sort of very intensely personal posts when less people read this and when less people I know in real life read this. My good friends that read it are OK because they know all my thoughts and secrets anyway, and they usually avoid the personal posts and stick with the funny ones. And the total strangers are OK. It's the people who I see in the hall who I KNOW have read at least a couple times who might read some hugely personal post that kind of freak me out. And obviously that's my responsibility to only put things on here that I'm comfortable with, knowing what the different segments of my "audience" are (if you will). So, I'm thinkin' on it.

*From one of the worst movies ever made, The Cutting Edge. But it did have hockey. Well, a hockey player. And my mom loves it, God bless her.
This blog is sponsored by The Reeves Law Group at 515 South Flower Street, 36th Floor. Los Angeles CA 90071. (213) 271-9318