80 degrees. Blue skies. A nice dry breeze. It’s summer all over again, except without the Nelly song.
Friday was packed with action. And creamy nougat too. What exactly is nougat anyway? Ah wait, never mind.
Most of the action however is only entertaining when I get tell it to you in person. And even then, like most people, I’m not terribly good at that, normally ending up saying "You had to be there." There are a handful of people on this entire planet who can actually pull off the art of telling it in person. I know two of them, and if my observations are correct, what they have in common are high-pitched voices, large nostrils, and the ability to curl their lips. I’ve got the lip curling thing down, but my nostrils are on the smaller side. And my voice is deep and tends to induce sleep.
So as I usually do with my weekend summaries, I’ll just jump straight to the drinking part.
It was Brie’s birthday, so we all headed over to Saga. A few months ago, when I had my birthday there, it briefly reopened as Bobos after being Velfarre for years. But then, in an eerie clash between my favorite Sunday night activity – HBO – and my favorite Friday night activity – liquor – it turned out that the restaurant featured in the show “Curb Your Enthusiasm” was also called Bobo’s. And hence the hasty name change. HBO: 1, Liquor: 0.
In a rather nostalgic twist for me, Saga is what Bobos/Velfarre was originally called when I first began hitting K-Town clubs. This was about seven years ago, when most of you kids were feverishly collecting pogs. (POGS, for God’s sake. This easily qualifies you as the dumbest child generation ever.)
Several hours later, I was eating 3 AM kimchi chigae at some joint that’s famous for its jahmpong, but I’m not crazy about jahmpong or trying to spell the names of Korean food in English. Outside, Brie had just completed his birthday vomiting ritual and was now repeatedly walking into walls.
I began to think about those monks in Tibet who claim they have the ability to walk through walls; and I wonder what happens to those guys when they get loaded. Whether some of them just keep walking, through walls then mountains and maybe right through the earth itself. Then they’d wake up the next morning, hung over, and find themselves in Wisconsin.
Fortunately I didn’t share that thought with the people at the table.
I bought books. There were a ton of literary suggestions posted in one of my earlier entries, so it wasn’t easy picking out just two. I won’t tell you which two books won out since I don’t want the losers to take it personally. Not that any of you are losers. You are all special, like snowflakes. Don’t ever change.
I begrudgingly played poker over at EK’s pad.
Haven’t played poker for money since high school. Back then, a bunch of us would play it all the time. But eventually I lost my taste for it. Wasn’t a big fan of losing cash to my buddies. And even when I won, it still didn’t feel all that great, because I was taking money from friends. Surely there were more fun things to do, like study for the SAT.
But as with golf, poker’s something that all guys will eventually be forced to do all the time as they get older. Especially if your unfortunate ass gets married. Since I can’t study for the SAT any more, I figured there’d come a time when I’d have to start playing the evil game again. And now was as good a time as any. I just hoped they’d be gentle with me…
And I cleaned house, motherfucka. Easy bank. I was hot, baby. Hot like that damn Nelly song.
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