Expiration dates

Goodness, what a long day it has been.

Up early this morning, reviewed a few more journal articles for my research, wrote a paper, went to a three hour meeting, had my fingerprints sent to the FBI, finished my epidemiology lab, talked to a gentleman about my master's thesis, and made bread.

More work, less play ~ I was quickly becoming a rather dull girl. Luckily for me, K. was available for a quick bite after work. After work was around 8 p.m., but I haven't been to bed before two for ages, so no worries. DH was off to kickball, and I was off to The Dirty Swine. (FYI: Murphy's Stout, thumbs up.)

I hadn't seen K. in ages. This was mainly secondary to the forbiddance of our friendship by a mutual friend. I hate it when people forbid me to do things. As I hadn't talked to him in longer than I hadn't seen her, I decided to risk the mafia hit and hang out with her. She's a doll. All you single gentlemen out there - she's cute, blonde, athletic, funny, and a PhD candidate -which means you are undoubtedly not good enough. It was fabulous, the perfect anecdote to an exhausting day.

It did make me wonder. If you make a ridiculous promise to a friend so he will be less uncomfortable and later become far less friendy due to a nuclear holocaust or a new girlfriend, are you required by the laws of friendship to keep the promise if it goes against logic? Is there a time frame on how long you have to keep him less uncomfortable, particularly if he has since dated multiple other girls and is in a committable relationship?

Why did the man cross the road?

The night started out a little later than I had planned since I left my license at a friend’s apartment. I know the law says they must card everyone, but seriously. I’m quite sure I no longer look under twenty-one, and I had no plans of drinking since I had an early date with a lumberjack the next day. On the plus side, being greeted with resounding cheers when you arrive at the pub does make you feel appreciated.

I was sipping my whiskey and Coke, minus the whiskey, and half listening to my new pseudo-British composer friend. The man is essentially getting a PhD in creativity. I'm not sure how one teaches (or studies) creativity, but I'm also not a liberal arts grad.

I was gazing out the window, pondering the terrible fashion choices of the girls waiting to get in, when I noticed a double decker party bus pull up across the street. Men started pouring out. My interest was peaked. A rather large man in a striped polo started weaving his way across the street - the very traffic intense four lane street. I had faith in him though, because he was holding up his hand to halt the traffic. Who wouldn't stop for that?

Apparently, a Prius will not. It must have been in hybrid mode and snuck up on him, 'cause it knocked the poor guy flat. He bounced back up like one of those clown punching dolls and slammed his hands on the hood of the Prius. It appeared that words were exchanged, then he continued his treacherous journey across the street. He made it just in time to meet up with his not-much-less intoxicated friends who had used the crosswalk.

The whole crew came pouring into the pub. It was a bachelor party. I love bachelor parties. I know some women go off on the whole "demoralizing, sexist, ridiculous, acting like teenagers, if you love me you won't" rant, but I think they are hilarious.

Where else will you find a grown man dancing with a half-inflated blow-up doll that he has managed to get glued onto his jeans? If you know the answer to that question, please, do not share.

Happy Hours

We went to a will-not-be-named chain restaurant this past week because I refuse to turn on the air conditioning. I just don't think eighty is hot enough. The people up here can live with thirty degrees below zero, but if the mercury rises a few marks above seventy they think they will suffocate. I miss the South.

Anyway, this place makes the best Southwest eggrolls besides mine. It was still early evening, so we thought we might make happy hour. We shouldn't have been concerned, as this chain advertises that they have "Happy Hour All Day Every Day! 2 for 1 Drinks!"

DH is a marketing guy at heart, so he took exception to the fraud they were perpetrating upon hapless consumers. Our waitress bounced up.

"If happy hour is all day every day, isn't that just the regular price?"

She looked puzzled. "No, it's happy hour."

"But if the price is, say, five dollars for one ten ounce drink, and you have two for one drinks every day all day, isn't that just the regular price? Five dollars for twenty ounces?"

Her smile didn't dim. "No. It's happy hour. The second drink is free."

DH looked at me beseechingly. I was not going to help. He got himself into the argument with the bubble head, he could get himself out.

"Okay, but it's not a sale. See the food prices are the same every day all day, but they aren't a happy hour special. It's just the regular price. Because it's every day."

Waitress looked at me beseechingly, then tried again. "The drinks are the happy hour. Two for one." She smiled tightly. "Do you need a minute?"

I spoke. "Coke and eggrolls please. He's being difficult. You're being dense. This happy hour stinks. And I'm too hungry to listen to you two."

DH ordered. "Was I being difficult?"

"No, love. She was just definitely not over qualified for her job."

It's like I tell the grandkids (future me) - don't argue with an idiot. People watching may not be able to tell who is who.