A week in late March, 2010

On Monday I get all grouchy because it starts pouring in the evening, just as I get on the bus home. I´m supposed to jog on the park on Monday evenings, see. Not doing that makes me grouchy as hell – so I just stay home and work out with the dumbbells instead.

On Tuesday evening I totally take a French leave from the office even though I´m supposed to do whatever at this Happy Hour they´ve come up with. Only, it just looks like it might not rain for a change so I make my point so as to be at the park as soon as I can, and catch up with not having jogged yesterday.
The next day I discover how powerful an excuse “I can´t miss on my training” really is.

On Wednesday evening some lame meeting runs for longer than anticipated so I barely have the time to get home and take a shower – I meet this girl for drinks at eight, nine o´clock p.m. and we head to this fancy Asian-style bar near my place I´ve become quite partial to in the last few months. She says she loves it and that I just know the coolest places (it´s true, I do, but most of them I totally steal from ___´s.). We pour down the vodka like there´s no tomorrow, and since I´ve been give the next two days off, it means the night ends up at half past three in the morning when all the bars we´re trying to hit next up have closed doors: We talk about Brave New World (me an bout the book, she about the movie), Hawaiian singer Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, and whether it was right for Sinead O´Connor to rip the pope´s picture on Saturday Night Live all those years ago or not, and the time she french-kissed another girl. Last joke of the night is about this girl, a mutual acquaintance whose eyebrows are so thin and sparse she looks like she´s undergoing chemo – then we pretty much hop on a cab, each of us taking separate ways.
For some very bizarre reason, it never even occurs to me to actually hit on her during the entire evening, not even when Sinead O´Connor was brought up and it´s such a given for an old move of mine with the DVD with the living room lights off...

On Thursday I wake up at what? Two in the afternoon or something?
Royally wasted.

On Friday I laugh out loud for about five entire minutes once I find out some paper I did as accreditation for my post-grad´s achieved a near-perfect 9.8 score and it´s going to be published on the University´s Library: I did it on less than five hours, and the other two-thirds of it that are not blatant copying from other people, are just plain old cheating: I wrote it like a romance and made everything up -- all this creative writing here is paying off, what do you know.
Of course it´s later on, Friday night, and I´ve been sort of stood up by this other girl, whom I´m supposed to be going out with or something, so my dinner plans at this fancy restaurant are pretty much shot to hell, and so is the sex that´s supposed to have ensued: I end up eating some Chinese alone on the couch watching either Heroes or House or both, and drinking the remains of a bottle of Stolichnaya I found at the back of the freezer.
Later on, when I go out on the streets, dead-drunk and looking for some late-night ice-cream, I end up petting this cute girl´s Boxer and saying “Attaboy, Poindexter” and then telling her something lewd (else just a very bad pick-up line, really), who pulls up the dog to her side and walks away saying, “His name is not Poindexter” through gritted teeth.
Cute girl though – but in hindsight the dog was just really after the Lo Mein sauce I´d spilled on my t-shirt during dinner.

It´s Saturday evening and I´m at M.´s place having a beer on the kitchen as his one-year son is unwrapping all the million presents he got at his birthday party earlier that day, and bringing them up to show us.
It´s one of those quiet, quaint, peaceful moments that make me stop and wonder and rethink a thing or two about life -- even if for just a second.

On Easter Sunday I´m back at my parents´, much to my chagrin and obviously against my will, but it has its moments: Like when I made everybody sing Happy Birthday at the lunch table, and when they asked me why I said it was to celebrate the birthday of the baby Jesus, who was hatched from a lizard´s egg about two thousand years ago.
It´s of course later that day and I´ve since come back home (the holiday traffic notwithstanding), and meet up with ____ for dinner at this trendy restaurant with the low-lighting and the high glassed walls: There´s this guy at the table to our right and he´s from Denmark or something: he´s talking about off-shore funding with this drp-dead gorgeous girl but his accent makes him sound just like oArnold Schwarzenegger – sorta looks like him too – I look up from my trout and the vodka-and-lime, at _____, and tell him that we just know the coolest places.