Oh Happy Thursday!

For the better part of my first year in DC, my friends and I had a Thursday night routine that occurred with scary regularity (this was before I met Dale). We generally would hit up Rosemary's Thyme for some 50% off bottles of wine or Lauriol, followed by a trip to Front Page or Ad Mo. A friend of mine (D) and I would also end the night at Gaypex for college ID night. D loves the young ones! Anywho, it's been a WHILE since I've had a Thursday night as described above. With kickball during the week for the past 5 months, I have tried to limit the number of nights I go out during the week. Plus, I'm dealing with grad school applications, so I've been a bit of a recluse. Regardless, last night was like the old days, but subtract D and add Dale.

I should've started the post with this disclaimer, but I'm in an absurdly (and uncharacteristic) good mood. I don't know if I'm still a bit drunk, excited for a nice long greasy lunch, or what but something's amiss! (As a result, this post is going to be spastic to say the least)

First thought of the morning: I REALLY need a 'hangover' mix on my iPod. However, I'm not sure what I would include. I would certainly include "Mercy, Mercy Me" but other than that, I'm not so sure. What do YOU think? (I expect a response from you, Mr. Bartender!)

Anywho, as Dale mentioned, our straight friend blew up my spot and called me out on GL. The reason I backed off is not b/c I suck (although whether or not I actually suck is open to debate), but rather we were supposed to meet at Front Page to surprise a friend of ours for her bday. Our straight friend later informed me that he would gladly go to GL for shirtless happy hour, AND he will be bartending at a gay bar at some point in the near future (Details to be released as I learn them).

Fast forward to Gaypex: The music, pulsating. The drinks, down the hatch. The guys, in the F*CKING CRADDLE!! As I mentioned, it's been a while since I've been to Gaypex on a Thursday, but I felt old (I guess that happens when you're not being hit on by a 60 year old, ahem, Dale...) Maybe it was the fresh fishies that have come with the new school year, but yikes! Frankly, I don't see myself dating anyone younger than me (as Dale may tell you, dating someone my age is kind of a stretch...), so I was really indifferent about most of the people who were there. I decided early that I was going to down some drinks and enjoy some dancing. About three songs into said Operation Boogie, some goober approaches me:

Goober: Do you know D?
Me: Yeah...
Goober: D at such and such a law school in New York?
Me: Yeah... (I recognize him as a guy that D hooked up with, prior to moving. He's young, so we refer to him as 'Sweet 16').
Goober: I know you from Friendster!
Me, to self: You should've kept that to yourself...
Me: Cool... (insert look that says: Get the f*ck away from me)

Unfortunately, Goober was wicked drunk and did not pick up on my non verbal communication. Furthermore, since he's only 19, he kept wanting to "sip" my drink. You can have it in two years, bitch.

I need to be very clear on this issue. I feel like Big Worm, but playing with my alochol is like playing with my emotions; don't push me.

So, after asking Goober if he has class tomorrow, with an air of superiority (due to the fact that I am his superior, in life) he responds by asking if I have work tomorrow... ew. He then informed me that Dale and I were in the "GW" section of the bar, so Dale and I promptly sought refuge on the other side as if we were fleeing Darfur.

As we leave the bar, I decide it's high time I meet Team Lady and The Boy:

Me: Call Team Lady and the Boy, we should meet up.
Dale: Ew. Do I look like the yellow pages? Don't answer that...
Me: Well, call someone else and get the number. Make it happen.
Dale: Who do you want me to call, the Ghostbusters? I hate you.
Me: Didn't you get some blogger numbers at Happy Hour? It's time to institute a blogger phone chain, like Legally Blonde 2.
Dale: "I want a hot dog REAL bad!" I didn't get any numbers, some people may have mine, but I don't have any of theirs.
Me: Busted.
Dale: Let's go to 17th street.
Me: Word.

Obviously, there was no rendezvous and no more drinking. Dale and I decide to hit up the place where, as Dale puts it, old gay men go to die: Annie's! WARNING: I AM ABOUT TO RANT.

What the shit! Annie's was closed, and so was McDonald's. Momma needs some food, and like my alcohol, you do NOT want to get between me and my feeding. Is some late night grub (other than waiting an hour for Manny & Olga's delivery) really too much to ask for? Is there some location of late-night greasy goodness in the Dupont area that I am unaware of? Please, this situation needs to be resolved ASAP!!

As a result of the heartbreaking lack of food, Dale gets in a cab and I return to Homo HQ to raid the fridge/pantry. Luckily, we have nothing to snack on. What do I eat? A Lean freakin' Cuisine. Do I want anything "lean" at 2:00 AM? Heeeeeeeeeelllllllllll no! I ate it anyway and passed the eff out. Who's about to leave la oficina to hit up Gordon Biersch for some crab cake, fries and beer? THIS GUY! Over and out. Have a great weekend!