Please indulge my itinerary.
Tuesday, 10pm: "Quick drink" ends.
Wednesday, 10am: Meeting at X's office, which I'd never been to. Whoa. It's totally like my Dad's office. I'm looking for a new day job, folks, and X is very kindly being helpful. Turns out, I'm sick of working in the burbs and I have a new Calvin suit. I should be downtown. Which brings me to...
11am: Meeting over. I slipped into a Starbuck's and in a very lady-like manner, changed from my nerdy slacks, which I then shoved in my purse, into my favorite jeans. The bathroom key involved an attached plastic cafeteria tray, FYI. I had an hour to kill before my meeting with Brittney, so I sat on a bench at Market and Battery and watched (I swear to God) a hobo play with a dead pigeon. I pretended to write in my journal and text Dallas, but mostly, spent 45 minutes pretending not to stare at that hobo and bird.
12noon: Lunch with Brittney at Shanghai 1930. Brittney piled up some menus to prop a video camera aimed at me (from below and while I ate Chinese food), interviewing me for some CBS profile on local bloggers.
"What topics are off limits to you, Beth?"
"Nothing. Can you please pass the soy sauce?"
1:45pm: I left Brittney and had yet another hour to kill. Well, obviously proximity-wise, I had to go to Boulevard. I grabbed an Examiner (they're free!) and sat at the bar, deciding to text Mel and Devine, just in case either could spare a second and join me.
My text? "At Boulevard."
Mel's response? "Be there in 5."
There's a reason she's my best friend.
We killed time until I had to go to the Hospital Council Conference at the Palace Hotel, where my beloved Ron had recruited me to discuss blogging.
4pm: I discussed blogging with people that work in marketing for big hospitals.
5pm: Ron and I retreated to the Pied Piper Bar for discussion on Ron's impeding (black tie!) wedding. Ron had kindly offered that I bring a date to the wedding. Melissa is pissed, but I'm taking my tux-clad brother. Quite frankly, Alex loves to dance and is, in general, a really good "plus 1." Also, should I wish to find a boy to flirt with, mon frere couldn't care less. I asked Ron, "So, any straight, disposable income, 32-39 year old coming to your wedding?"
This was Ron's response, which was interrupted by a waiter.
"Oh, Beth darling, I don't think...Oh, hello. Yes. I'd like a Tanqueray martini with three olives and the bartender will look at you like you've very strange, but I'd like a third Vermouth and he'll just have to forgive me... Anyway, no Beth. I'll have to think but I doubt it."
7pm: I met Mel, Tara and Pooj at Town Hall, as we were all planning to attend the MoveOn.org event mere blocks away.
7:30pm: No one answered the door at the MoveOn.org event. Fuckin' hippies.
8pm: Epic Roasthouse.
10pm: Both Pat Kuleto and Hastings show. Kuleto (whom Hastings needed to point out to us) chose to buy some cougars drinks. Not us.
Well screw him. He has a ponytail.
11:30pm: At this point, I hadn't seen a computer in days. I'd fallen into deep withdrawl. So, I kissed my friends goodbye, hopped in a cab and crawled into bed.
I just woke up and checked my e-mail. I'll write you bitches something funny later.
In re-reading this, I just realized... Oh shit, those slacks are still in my purse...