~Sunday~ I was up at 9:00, and settled into my Sunday morning routine of country gospel music on my iPod—for that fresh just-gone-to-church feeling—along with a gander at this week’s PostSecrets.
I spent a couple of hours this morning creating my first “fan page” on Facebook as part of my volunteer work on the board of Manbites Dog Theater, as we take a dive into social media.
In the photos section, just by luck, I chose to show three photos from each of the plays in our 2009-2010 season, using the picture that was used on the main page of that show as sort of an introductory picture. What was lucky about it was that when the page displays it shows the pictures in an album in a table with four columns, so it turned out nicely with each row representing one of the shows. Sweet.
I spent the early afternoon catching up my Friday and Saturday blog entries, the first of which took way longer than I’d anticipated it would, but I thought those messages about clickjacking, tabnapping, and laptop (and smartphone) tracking software were important to share.
I met Joe at Flex at 4:00, and we walked over to The Borough, where the plan was to start drinking early—beginning with Bloody Marys—and to stop drinking early, by 7:30 the latest, as that’s when I was supposed to start fasting in anticipation of lab work that I’m having done in the morning at 7:30.
We took a seat the bar, next to Haywood/Gene, and along with two Bloody Marys and more, we had dinner. I chose a spicy chicken sandwich that was one of their specials, albeit it was special neither in taste nor price. Discuss.
There was a PB&J-eating contest going on there that was supposed to start at 4:00, but didn’t start until well after 4:30 and was outside, so it really didn’t affect us in any way, initially.
There were a bunch of sandwiches leftover, and when I asked Liz if they were “open to the general public,” before taking one, she blew me off—at the expense of a 5% reduction in tip. Sorry to bother you just trying to make sure it was okay to take one without paying for it.
At one point while we were there, this guy came up to Joe, who was sitting in the chair to my left, and he said to Joe pointing at me, almost touching me, “Is his name David?”
Joe said, “No, it’s not, but you could just ask him what his name is.”
He told me that I looked like someone—a doctor—he had met recently, and he was wondering if I was him.
I introduced myself, and he introduced himself as Charlie, recently retired from IBM and about to travel to China, and in what seemed like a complete and utter non sequitur to me, Joe asked him, “Are you 62?”
“Huh???” I thought.
So imagine my surprise when Charlie said, “Yes, I am.” Turns out Joe had seen this ad of his on Criagslist.
So as not to further bother the staff at The Borough, Joe and I made our way over to Flex, where we played a few games of free pool. Some of the “Sunderwear” crowd was there, and we left them to their vices.
A guy who was watching us play pool talked to us, including telling a joke about a father who’d put an IUD device into his daughter that would turn into a pumpkin after midnight as an attempt to set a curfew, but when she got home at 2AM and her father asked her what had happened, said, “Turns out I went home with Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater.” Badumpbump. We’re here all week folks. Try the pumpkin pie. Mmmm. Your pie smells so good.
In a very, very rare move, Joe and I went up the stairs and out into the smoking area, where I don’t even recall anyone smoking. It was a nice night out and the gates on the one side were unlocked and open to the street. At one point, one guy accidentally passed gas, about which he said, “I didn’t mean that to happen,” and then, “It doesn’t smell.” Well, I certainly hope not—in both cases.
As hard as we tried, we couldn’t last until Karaoke started. It was advertised to start at 9:00, but David the emcee, who was dressed like a hooker—You hooker, you brought ‘er!—said it probably wouldn’t start until 9:30. We left at 8:45.
I passed a lot of people trick-or-treating at that late hour as I drove across the Boylan Avenue Bridge.
I hoped that they’d be done with that in my neighborhood, because as I’d noted earlier to Joe and Gene at The Borough, when I’d left my house at 3:30, I’d forgotten it was “31” and I turned on my entrance light. I like to keep it turned off on 31 to make it clear that I’m not participating.