11:09 p.m. - 02.25.2004
To Tha Break Of Dawn
Seeing as how the weekend is upon us, I'll give you a brief rundown on my weekend last.
So, friday night B and I go to the Blue Moon to see a band and catch up with Peter and we meet Peter's friend Jeremy. After the band we all go back to B's, but Peter crashes right away so it's just us with Jeremy, a relative stranger.
To paint a picture of Jeremy, he kept commenting on how he was strangely attracted to the sparkly label on his beer. I commented how he must be part crow, and he kindly reminded me that the crow in the Secret of NIHM is also named Jeremy. I knew it would be one of those nights.
It seemed like none of us wanted to go to bed yet, so I suggested we go "find trouble". By "find trouble" I mean "something to do". Jeremy must have interpreted it though to mean "get beat up". We start walking around UW's greek row and Jeremy is shooting his mouth off to all these frat boys. B and I nervously herd him out of the area.
Around 3 we decide to go to IHOP. On the way jeremy shoots his mouth off to some thugs on the street - but they end up being cool about it and regaling us with a story of how their friend was in a big "tag battle" behind some theatre in Olympia, but fell and died when he landed on some high tension wires. They were very proud so I decided not to mention that their friend lost the big "tag battle". (I must say I was pleased to hear that kids in Olympia "fight" by spraying graffiti. My dreams of the return of dance-fighting are around the corner).
We get to IHOP where our waitress is an artsy girl named Charlie. After much pressing, she really doesn't like to go by Chuck. To give you a rundown on Charlie, she proudly described her self as a High School dropout and an artist, and with her graveyard shift at IHOP was doing "very well" for herself. Intrigued about her art, I asked her what her medium of choice was. She had no idea what I was talking about, so I quickly ordered the "endless" stack of pancakes and a cup of joe. B did as well and made the projection that he would eat 12, so I forecasted 13 for myself in the spirit of competition.
The food comes and we have the usual 4am diner banter. I mention blogs and am forced to explain to jeremy what "blogs" are. He spends the rest of the night (read: morning) ending all sentences with, "I'm gonna blog that."
Later, this giant, freight train of a guy who we find out is a professional ultimate champion fighter sits next to us - and Jeremy starts running his mouth off to him and his friend about beating us up. And blogging about them beating us up. And again, we luck out, cuz these guys end up being really cool about it. So we leave, I gave jeremy a ride home, and that was 5am.
(FYI, IHOP endless plate of pancakes battle royale results: B = 4 pancakes, AB =5. According to Charlie, the record is 37, but with many trips to the bathroom. P.S. B had a plate of sides as well, where I had none. We called it a tie.)
Saturday is a full day of reclaiming my sleep patterns. Saturday night I vow not another night before and crawl into bed to read and watch SNL. B calls me to say he's at my local bar with a friend from Portland if I feel like stopping by. So I do. And we have a good laugh about the randomness that was the night before. The bar closes and as we leave we hear about a party at some place called "the Pink House" through some people that B's friend knows. The Pink House is just some dude's house - painted Mary Kay pink.
We go to the Pink House and hang out there while some gay guy ran around buck naked and B's stripper girl friend from Portland disappeared into a bedroom with another girl for awhile.
Naked gay guy continues to run around while trying to have drunken heart-to-hearts with strangers about how things didn't work out with a girl he really liked, so should he switch back to men? Not knowing how to console a drunken naked man Dr. Phil-style, I just wanted to tell him he had a great c*ck and to follow his heart. Apparently his heart told him to dance on more furniture.
Then the owner of the Pink House kicks us all out around 4 so we all trudge over to naked gay guy's apartment. We hang out there for a bit until naked gay guy announces he must pass out and decides to kick everyone out, which apparently meant just me and B. I whole heartedly believe a cheer went up once us squares left and an orgy soon followed.
So B and I start walking towards mine so I can give him a ride home. While walking on Broadway near the Safeway we spot these two girls and a guy wearing butterfly wings and pushing each other in a shopping cart. B and I look at each other with that "here we go again" and end up running around Cap Hill till 7am with these three crunchy psych major/musician/new-agars that were tripping on acid. B and I happily ate our QFC ham and cheese baguettes while we watched them run around Broadway staring at all the lights and terrorizing the poor sleeping bums. I just remember two of them trying to "transfer" or "read" each others energies for awhile, and the other deciding to change her name to Genusha, meaning goddess of something and something.
Around 6am we started to head to one of their apartments, but I think the drugs got the better of them and they started freaking out about not knowing B and me, only having spent the last two hours hanging out with us. So they ditch us, and we look over to find ourselves standing in front of the Pink House. We had come full circle and decided to call it a night (read: morning).
Driving B home on sunday morning, the sky was absolutely cloudless and I got to watch the sun rise and break over the top of the Cascade mountains, making them look on fire. It was gorgeous.
After a brief reprieve, last night was more of the same. After catching a Kaito, the Turn-Ons, and British Sea Power show at the Crocodile, B and I found ourselves out in Ravenna somewhere, chilling in someone's parent's basement watching a Pulp DVD till way too late.
Weekends wear me out sometimes. I need that small stretch of work called "wednesday" to recoup.