| Because a Nose Ring Isn’t Worth Going off My Diet |
http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/archiv Random chick: You guys waiting in line? Freshman girl: Yeah, I’m getting my nose pierced. Random chick: Oh, nice… My friend just got hers done. It’s not supposed to be that bad. Freshman girl: Do you know if it gets in the way of blowing lines? Random chick, taken aback: Uhhh… Well, I guess you always have another nostril… –St. Mark’s Overheard by: face |
We checked out at 11:00, and met Pat, John, and Phillip at IHOP for breakfast.
We made it through the nasty syrup caddy mount between the tables that was exposed as two tables in our line of sight were separated to accommodate a baby. Fortunately it was removed before the baby rubbed it with his fingers, which ended up in his mouth shortly thereafter.
Of course, did it really matter?
In the end, “Grandma” picked up a straw from the rug, which had been chewed by the baby for a while, and set it on the table in front of the baby just out of reach—which of course, in enough time (two seconds) for grandma to forget where it had been, the baby started leaning forward trying to reach it while screaming because he couldn’t.
The tabula rasa that was grandma’s brain pushed the straw to the baby to shut him up, which it did, as the straw went right back into his mouth.
We said our goodbyes, and had an uneventful trip home, in almost three hours to the minute.
I napped for a couple of hours, and then met Sharon and Mary at Southpoint for our first attempt to have our book club meetings 1) monthly instead of weekly, 2) in the evenings on the weekend instead of at lunch during the workday, and 3) in a location central to the five of us—two of whom live in Chapel Hill, two in Raleigh, and one in Holly Springs.
Janet ended up not making it, as she was sick, nor Suzanne, because she was in Gatlinburg this weekend.
We did manage to spend a few minutes talking about books.
I left there at about 8:45, and met Joe at Flex for Scareyoke.
I arrived before Joe, and while waiting Marcus told me that they needed more players on “the good” pool table. I played a game against Jim, and lost with only the 8-ball left, so felt good about the game.
Joe and I played several games on the other table, and then proceeded to get agitated as hell with Winniebago, the “hostess” for tonight’s “Drag Karaoke,” who kept saying things like, “You fuckers need to applaud. What d’ya think I’m up here for? It’s not for my health. Now clap for these people.”
At one point, I wrote this on one of the little sheets of paper you use to sign up for songs on:
She had a sidekick tonight, “Tequila Rose,” who is “in training” as her little helper. Great. The blind leading the blind.
I sure hope this is enough to make me say to Drag Karaoke next Sunday: “No, thanks.”