“I would pay your rent”

Happy New Year.  No lists.  I guess I have a couple of resolutions, but they existed before the end of '08.  On with the blogging.

On a recent Saturday night, everyone was split up.  Urban Sprawl and MicHELLe went to a party that I wasn’t invited to (even through them, but when I found out from pictures on Facebook that it was thrown by a guy that Bottomless Pitt had referred to as “dumb as a bag of hair,” I wasn’t so upset), and I went to No Parking. 

I ran into a guy that I had met over a year ago when I was dating Duplex exclusively (we had coffee; he wanted to hook up, and I stupidly said no because of my aforementioned exclusive relationship that lasted about 4 months).  Just like every other time this would-be trick has seen me at No Parking, he said hi and then ignored me the rest of 

the time we were there.  I don’t think too much of it anymore.

When I got home and got on A4A, I had a message from a familiar screenname, but I didn’t recognize the body picture.  He had no face picture, so I gave him a “no thanks.”  Turns out it was an updated picture of Mr. Couldawouldashoulda that was not quite as cut/tan as he was back when we first met.  Of course, by the time I realized this, he was signed off.  Damnit. 

Sunday, I was supposed to be doing something that involved not coming out and drinking, but when has that ever stopped me.  I was the last to arrive to Pieces’ happy hour, and both Bottomless Pitt and I had no voice.  Having a very intense workweek ahead of me, I decided to take it easy on the drinking. 

At one point, Fung Wah tried to take a picture of us.  Basically, Fung Wah didn’t have enough room to back up and get everyone in the frame.  Vodka Stinger, our drag hostess for the evening, offered to take the picture for us since she was on stage (in the middle of a Bingo game she was calling… fuck, I was at Bingo on a Sunday evening!  I'm 60.), which was ideal for where we were posing.  Fung Wah refused to give her the camera and leaned so far back over the ballet-barre-like structure that divides Pieces’ social area that he almost fell over it.  With at least one foot in the air, she took this:

You can imagine the comments this picture got from some of my nasty-minded friends when Urban Sprawl posted it on Facebook the next day.  For the record, I was laughing at Fung Wah when this was snapped.

After Pieces, most of the Crew ditched, but a few of us needed some 2-4-1 therapy, Chi Chi’s style.  It wasn’t long before a Chi Chi’s regular with dreds recognized us from our last Asbury Park trip.  Okay, scratch that, he recognized me, describing the speedo I was wearing to the last detail.  I tried my best to convey flattered rather than creeped-out.  It wasn’t long before he got Bottomless Pitt to turn around (learn how to deflect attention; it can be your best defense), and the words “I would pay your rent” were uttered. 

Note the conditional tense.

Then he introduces us to the guy that he's been all boyfriend-like with before he started chatting with us.  I get a good look at him, and it turns out he’s the Clinton Hill guy from a couple of weeks before whose number I got.  “Oh, nice to meet you.”  Riiiiight.

Bottomless Pitt got decided she needed another vodka on the rocks, but I was headed home before midnight.  She couldn’t deal with Chi Chi’s long enough for the second drink, so she gave the ticket to me.  Did I mention I have great enablers, friends?  Yeah.

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