Last week, Man on the Inside invited me to join him on his Election Night Party hopping rounds. I readily accepted, even promising not to write about our Gavin-filled adventures (don’t worry. I was lying.) But in a rare moment of flakiness, MOI cancelled, claiming homework and exhaustion were keeping him from Tuesday’s Events.
After sending him obscenity filled e-mails, cursing him and his kin, I made plans with Laura and resigned myself to spending election night knocking back wine and watching returns with Berkeleyist. Of course, Tuesday afternoon, MOI calls.
What? Now you want to go out? Forget it. I’m tired and underdressed and quite frankly, looking forward to a relaxing evening of making fun of my father’s suburban Public Television election night special.
“Fine, but you’re missing out.”
Whatever. Laura and I had a fabulous time, discovering a wonderfully cheap Indian joint where I enjoyed a fabulous “Curried Chicken Tostada.” We returned to Judy’s with cookies and New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and tuned into dad (likely making up the majority of his audience), marveling at how someone who sports a separation of sock and pant makes it onto television. Laura is quite familiar with this type of familial embarrassment, her father hosting a show entitled, “Social Security in Action” on Leisure World Television.
We had a lovely time and I had no regrets about giving up my Night on the Inside with my Man on the Inside. That is, until I heard from him today. I am no longer allowed to detail our e-mail conversations, as MOI would kill me. However, MOI gleefully mentioned that he encountered the Gavin senior advisor I rudely and embarassingly accosted at the Comedy Benefit.
MOI: You remember him, right?
Beth: Uh, yeah. I remember him.
MOI: He remembers you.
Beth: SHUT UP. You are fucking with me.
MOI: Well, I reminded him…