Number 6…sorta

Oh blog. How I’ve neglected you!

I am obviously behind schedule, but life calls. Between maybe getting another job and preparing to move and planning the rest of my life and working and being addicted to really embarrassing shit on Facebook, I just haven’t had the time. But I have not given up on this spiritual quest. I’m just going to have to spend a month or two drunk at some point is all.

Nevertheless, I did somehow miss a bar I visited three weeks ago. On Halloween I went to Blueberry Hill to meet friends, making it really like number 3 or 4, but we’ll just say it’s number 6.

So I’m getting off work and it’s been a slow night for obvious reasons. Who wants to eat Italian small plates when you can go to parties and bars and celebrate National Dress Like A Whore Day? (I had an early preview at Bar Italia, which you can skim over a couple of posts back.) I sent out some exploratory text messages to the usual suspects, trying to see if anything was afoot. There was a contingent of people at Blueberry Hill and it looked as though I would be able to arrive there around 11:30. This is on a Friday night, remember.

There are times in my life when I question the choices I have made. I look at the people who I know and love and I see how they have a nice car, or medical coverage, and I spend an evening wondering whether or not I should try to go back to school or take some other road to a normal, 9-to-5, Monday-thru-Friday existence.

Then there are nights when park in the loop at 11:45 and recieve a text as I am stepping out of the car that everyone is going home because they are tired. These are all people aged roughly 28-to-32 years, which is not particularly old. None of them have children. They just were tired and went home on a Friday night during a usually fun holiday with no reason to get up early the next day. So yeah, thanks for giving me a reason to reassess those late night yearnings for responsibility and order.

Mr. “3 Ounces Of Responsibilty” was supposed to meet up with me as well, but he also bailed. His reasons for bailing were related to getting laid, and therefore no grudge can be held.

Anyhoo, I did manage to convince my good friend Kevin to ditch the early birds and return to Joe Edwards’ establishment. We talked politics, and when the Hill closed we relocated to the ever dependable Mangia and bumped into Monsieurs Sean and John and talked more politics. The night ended up being far from a total loss.

We’ll see what time I can get out of work tomorrow night. I need money, but I might need drinking and loud music more.