2004-07-26 - 10:52 a.m.

Hmmmm . . .

I'm here.

It's Monday morning and I'm fishing bass and playing games. Or something like that. I'm doing laundry and listening to Kenichi argue with a contingent of badgers from across the way. Typical Monday in the Rollinsford Business District. So excited to work today! Not so much. I mean, yeah - I'll get to see Al-Y, who having gone 4 straight days without seeing seems illegal, and sure, Becca and I will groove out to the dulcet tones of Hampton and the Hampsters - but I'll also have to deal with the big elephant in the room. And by "elephant" I mean "S.C." and by "in the room" I mean "down the hall". Oh well. I'll just spend the night supplanting all my phone numbers from my old phone - which "shit the bed" this weekend - into my new phone, which in actuality, is Kate's old phone. Fancy that.

Two points of clarification from my last entry: Firstly, Ben wasn't slipped a mickey Saturday night. No, instead he was losing his shirt playing medium-stakes poker at Matt and Shannon's. Sans Shannon of course. Which segues into my next clarification, as Kelly has kindly informed me that the reason the SIXTEEN(!) of them were booted from the Gaslight was because one of them (Shannon) "allegedly" was rude ("Hands off, Bitch!") to a waitress when she was shoved out of the way. That and I guess she was wearing what they called "offensive/pornographic clothing" (which was there description of a lei with penises on them. Jeeze, it's not like they were real penises!) I wonder if they know Macro Polo is across the street! Quelle Scandale! Keep in mind people, that with the exception of our pal Kyle, the Gaslight has a rep for being a bunch of cocksmokers who kick people out for looking at a waitress crosseyed. Or . . . you know . . . calling them a bitch. Shannon my dear, you're in good company. We all of us have been kicked out of the Gaslight at one time or another. Some of us more than others.

A photo of Shannon from Saturday night. I don't see how this is offensive at all. If anything I respect her good taste and slight viking flare!

Kelly has now just updated me further that after they got kicked out of the Gaslight, and had further adventures at Poco's, Bananas, etc. Shannon returned to the Gaslight, different bouncer let her in, and she went up to the waitress that got them kicked out and said, in her best Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman style, "Yeah, I just want you to know you made a big mistake. Huge." Informed the waitress yet again what a bee-yotch she was and walked out. Oh that Line Drive Lucy!

So what else? Well, speaking of downtown Portsmouth, Coty swung by last Monday night and we went and hung out downstairs at the Brewery - a scene related to too many debaucheries for me to link to all of them here. It was just Coty and me playing that sand/puck/shuffleboard-y game for a while - which I was pretty sure I was kicking his ass at until the end when he kicked mine. Brooke and Kyle met us there, and then Jeff, and then - after some Blue Mermaid hi-jinx - so did Ben. We hung out for a while and drank. Coty never got to realize his dream to play pool and Jeff got free beer for answering a trivia question that was easy enough to know, but we were all too scared to answer it. That makes no sense. It did at the time. I think. Anyway, I force fed Stella on to Coty when we got back and he enjoyed it. Which pleased me since he isn't exactly the most glowing critic of Wet Hot American Summer. Be nice to him people, he'll learn one day. One day. Of course, at least he understands the movie. Something I can't say the same about for Liz. Coty made me break my not-so-rigorous diet when he got his usual Armenian-fueled hankering for some cold processed meat in a stale dry bread-like substance from a gas station around 12:30 at night. ["Now that right there is something I don't miss." - F. Robie] I can't imagine that it was MY decision to buy a frozen cheeseburger with freeze-dried cheddar cheese! Then again, I suppose I could *kinda* see that. Coty wanted me to stay up late for that marathon Sox game against the Mariners. I stayed up until 2 and then finally gave up. I'm glad I did. Coty had to cry by himself. I woke up the next morning to snoring Coty on the couch. Ahh, memories. I left for work, and probably shortly after rubbing himself inappropriately all over Ben's and my valuables, Coty left for Nashua.

Interspersed with all of that S.C. goings-on from last week, I took a break from it when Rick met me at the mall on Thursday afternoon and we drove down to WOO-ster to see his friend Mike's play. The same Mike I sat next to during Rocky Horror last month. So yeah. The show was "Cabaret". I wasn't sure what to expect. Wasn't this the same show The Sheriff had done a few summers ago with ass-less chaps? Yeah. That's not usually a pro so much as a CON. We got there and ran into many of the rapscallions that I met at Rocky. And yes, I knew there'd be hell to pay when Andrea found out her precious "Frank" was there. Mike was the director, which for those of you not intimately familiar with "theater", means he wasn't "in" it. But the show was great. Rick warned me before it started that it was sort of like, "Anne Frank: The Musical". Yeah. Definitely left you with that warm, fuzzy, God I want to kill myself feeling at the end. That's Nazi's for ya. But seriously, it was really good. I'm glad I was in the dark about the plot. Take the kids! You'll be glad you did.

What's that? The Sox smacked-down the Orphan-Rapers again? Thanks to an especially sweet 3 -run homer by Mr. J. Damon? Yeah . . . I think I heard something about that.

Awwwwwwwwww shit!

It's been real,

Otto Van Kreickengasheitmeyer

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