Went to a birthday party last night in the city. One of those parties where the invitation says it starts at 9:05 pm which translates to “We’d really appreciate it if you got here around 10 pm. Thanks.” I slept in Saturday morning so that I’d be able to stay awake. I picked up two of “my kids” at 8:30 pm, we grabbed dinner, then headed to the city.
When we arrived, we were told that there was a great 23-year-old bottle of Jamaican rum in the kitchen. So Golfing Partner K and I went to find it. We tried just sipping a shot because we felt as though it needed to be treated with some respect. But it tasted like shit. Burned all the way down. Finally had to add some Coke. It wasn’t until later that someone realized we’d drank the 151 instead of the good bottle that had been hiding in the back. Oh well. I ended up wasting my one drink of the night on crap rum. It was too late to change.
Spent a lot of the evening talking with P until I finally freaked him out. He asked where I went to school and I told him, then told him where he had grown up and where he went to school. We’d had this exact conversation during the Pirates vs Monkeys vs Ninjas vs Robots party. I remembered all the answers, he didn’t. I may suck at recalling names, but I can give you a list of random facts about a person any day.
The room was full of gay men, couples, and gay couples. My choices were pretty limited. I was quite content chatting with P, but he finally bored of me and left early. I spent some time consoling one of the guys who had a problem where he would always hit on straight guys. We thought maybe we should team up, then switch at the last minute. There was a cute doctor there, and another cute guy, then I realized they were together. Gave up for the rest of the evening.
K’s score for the evening: 0. Status quo. ;-)