Happy, but not pretty, hour…

I was hyper productive at work today. I got in close to 10 and left at 7.

On the way home, I stopped by O’Mulligans. (I have “Oh’Mulligans” on my calendar. Is that how they spell it?) It’s over on Airport Blvd, in that same little area as Baby Moon Cafe and Remington’s. Anyhow, it was the STC social, and I looked around for the group when I went in. There was a large party in a separate room, and I thought, “That must be it.” Just then, from the other direction, Heather screamed, “John, we’re over here.”

She was thrilled to see me, and even more thrilled when Will arrived. The only other people there were these three other, and there’s really not a nice way of saying this, except by adding “bless their hearts” after it, who were very ugly, bless their hearts. They were the kind of ugly that made me say, “Thank g-d I’m gay.” Really nice personalities, though. Well, not really. One had a nice personality. Fortunately, she was the one sitting closest to me, but still sufficiently separated by the width of the table. I’m sure they are all very talented writers.

I had a couple of drinks (bourbon and diet coke), and a tomato and mozzarella cheese salad, which was so, so good. I got balsamic vinegar on the side to pour over it, and I was just so pleased with it. I was feeling a little celebratory from my bonus news yesterday, and so picked up Will’s and Heather’s tab, too. Just couldn’t do the other ladies’, not because they’re not beautiful, but because I don’t know them, and they’re not even students. Bless their hearts.

I had planned to stay in tonight, but at about 9:30, Steve called me, and said, “I’m going out to dinner with two straight girlfriends of mine, and then we’re going down to Flex for a while. Are you interested in meeting us?” Oh that one degree twist. He said, “We’ll be there at about 11.” Closer to 11, he called with an update that they were now on an 11:15 schedule.

I got there just about then, and they hadn’t yet arrived. I spoke with Tom for a while, who I hadn’t seen for a while. I can never remember his partner’s name, and fortunately at one point in the conversation, he said, “Yeah, Roland recently had some back surgery…” so I appreciated that. He asked me if I’d seen Dan and Joe lately, and I didn’t get into all that bad blood, but simply said, “Gosh, I’ll bet I haven’t seen them in 4 or 5 years.”

“We haven’t seen him in over a year ourselves,” he replied. Actually, that’s when he said that line about Roland as he was saying that’s why they hadn’t been out much in the last year to have run into Dan or Joe.

Steve arrived with his friend Jodee, and she was a lot of fun. We spent a good time looking at, and discussing, the cockrings in the glass case. Nothing like a genital conversation among friends.

Jodee and I talked about everyone in the bar, while Steve worked a patron. At one point, I bought us a round of Goldschlagers. Yum. That reminds me, I have got to get to the ABC store before my trip and get a bottle of that for the slopes. That will be better than Peppermint Schnapps, which is what I traditionally get.

After Steve and Jodee left, I drove over to CCs. I had one of those “hot” hot dogs from the street vendor outside. The Friday Night Drag Show tonight consisted of the Drag Bingo BVDs (bingo verifying divas), who walk around and, well, verify the bingos, at the almost monthly Drag Bingo games in Durham.

I really didn’t know anyone there, and spent the time watching the show, and then watching people dancing. At one point, I went to the restroom, not the men’s room, but to one of the two totally separate stall rooms that are officially for the women (of which there is probably ever five in the place at a time). Evidently, I didn’t close the door all the way, and while I was facing the wall, peeing, with my back to the door, it opened, and I turned around.

The guy said, “Excuse me,” and partially closed the door. I said, “That’s okay,” and smiled at him, and he opened the door, came in and shut it. “Do you mind if I pee here in the sink?” Lord. Lord. Men are pigs.

“Are you straight?” I asked him. “Yeah,” he said, and then laughed, and said, “No.” He peed, and did not choose to further use yet the same basin in which to wash his hands. I passed on that “opportunity” as well.

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