The gang at Steve’s party on Sunday:
The three amigos:
I went to the credit union at RTP, which has got to be the worst customer experience ever, and then by CarMax.
Next, I stopped by the Factory Card Outlet, where I nearly had a stroke in the parking lot. They are going out of business. I love that place. Where will I get my cards now?
I stopped by Crabtree, where I went into four stores, which is perhaps the most number of stores I’ve shopped in in one day in 5 years. What I learned: Williams-Sonoma is a “sister store” to Pottery Barn. Who knew?
I ran to Crossroads, where I can’t even begin to articulate the idiot drivers I ran into. Do you people only drive once a year, during the holidays?
At home, as I put my wallet on the counter, I noticed that my driver’s license was missing. Still in the “vacuum tube” at the credit union. I hate that fucking place.
I worked for 7 hours straight on editing Mary’s Users Guide, and I’m still not close to being finished. Ridiculous!
Joe called at 9:00 to see if I was going to Scareyoke. I hadn’t planned to, but his one centimeter twist of my arm worked.
The place was tragic. We played a game of pool, during which we scratched twice, and on whose table the white ball has ceased to be able to be discerned from the rest of the balls.
This means that when you scratch, the white ball goes into the “trap” with the other balls. Twice, Richard gave us $.75 to get it out, and then he put up a sign that said, “Out of order.”
That irritated the shit out of us, as did Dave announcing that he had put a “tip jar” out for Chad, the host of karaoke (Who cares!), and then worse than that, walking around sticking the jar in our faces attempting to get a sympathy or intimidation donation. It didn’t work — for Joe nor me.
There was a black girl there who had an absolutely phenomenal voice. I missed her singing Whitney’s version of “I Will Always Love You,” but heard her sing Oleta Adams’ “Get Here.” Exquisite.
We drove over to Legends in time to see the 12:30 show, which was okay, not extraordinary. Raven Simone performed, as did Jackie O’Knight. I’ve never seen Jackie do anything but “booger drag” at Trailer Park Prize Night. She was pretty decent.
On the way home, a cop pulled the car right in front of me. I was thankful to “watch.” The car stopped right in the middle of the road, and I stopped behind the police car.
The cops got out (one on each side of the cruiser), and were walking real slow up to the car, with their hands on their holsters. I just sat still.
The cop on the passenger side of the cruiser waved me around, and I heeded, happy to be out of the way of any potential fallout from the situation.