I haven't blogged at you because my weekend has been pretty much all statistics, all the time. In case anyone's worried sick, I'm on page 285 now. Only 215 pages to go! Kill me now. No, kill me after I've spent the money I'm earning.
I'm having my house power washed with the money, did I tell you? EXCITING! Okay, maybe it's not up there with "I'm getting Louboutins and a pink diamond," but it's thrilling for me. Every time I come home now, I'm all, Oh my god, with the DINGY on this house. If you ever wanna get real perspective on how your home is looking, move away for a year, get destroyed by a relationship that didn't work out, and then return home. You'll see your home with new eyes! Eyes you want to pluck out of your head so you can think about that pain instead of the other.
How's it going, June?
Since it's becoming obvious that a weekend here alone with statistics and my thoughts is not a good idea, last night at around 10:00, I put on black hose and heels, and headed out the door to the fancy hotel within walking distance, which I did not walk to because heels. I was determined to sit at the bar and drink a glass of wine and see what happened. You won't BELIEVE what happens next. Click here!
I took a picture for you, of me getting ready, and it came out like this and this KILLS me. I look like last dance with MaryJane.
The heels.
Anyway, I'd love to tell you all heads turned when I teetered into that hotel bar in my heels, but zero heads turned. Heads used to turn. Mostly because I had a three-foot-wide perm back in the day, but still. They turned. The bartender knows me, though, not because I'm such a regular, but because he's a good bartender and we've talked at length before. He set me up with the worst Chardonnay ever invented in the history of time, and I commenced my sexy sitting at the bar like a mystery gal.
Seriously, it's a swank place. Why the bad Chardonnay?
I sipped like I didn't have a care in the world for awhile, when in fact I DID have a care, and that care was, When did TJ Swann come up with a Chardonnay line? Did STP Motor Oil and the Chardonnay worlds merge? Jesus.
We're talking bad wine.
Finally, I looked around the room at my options. There were two men in suits sitting in the spot where Ned and I had our first date. They looked precisely like the men in the balcony on the Muppet Show. I wondered, since one of them had a pink drink, if they were on a first date. I wanted to tell them those were doomed chairs.
There was a Middle-Eastern family having some sort of "celebration," and you've never seen such a dour group of folk in your life. I was riveted by how much this family hated each other. One grown man never looked up from his phone, once. Not once. Maybe he was watching an episode of The Waltons or some other program where families like each other. Holy cats. I finally decided that someone must have died, and they were having a post-funeral dinner. I really hope that was the case, otherwise, this family should just break up. Maybe they were having a frowning contest. I'll have more fun at my colonocopy than these people had last night.
Finally, I turned to the booth behind me,
...and there was Midcentury Modern furniture guy,
also known as Area guy, and I always get annoyed when you guys don't know his identity. "Is Area guy the Midcentury furniture guy?" GEEZ. Yes. That's the name of his store, is Area. At this point there is NO WAY he doesn't know I blog about him on the regular. There is just no way.
Anyway, there he was, in all his British glory, and in your Big Book of June Events, you may recall I saw him there several Friday nights ago, when I was at that same bar with Naughty Pro and Tall Boy.
He was on a date, and they were with another couple. "I'm just as pretty as she is," I thought, and I want you to know that isn't true. I'm not. And lemme tell ya something. Midcentury Guy could NOT BE MORE INDIFFERENT to the All This that is June. Every time we make eye contact, he flickers away quickly, which means he either, (a) reads this blog and thinks I'm a NUTBAR, which, hmpf, or (2) is just not into all the heat that is The June. Which, hmpf, also.
So that was interesting, at least, and I kept turning coquettishly in my barstool to act like I was perusing the room, when really I was wanting to check out every moment of Area Guy's date night. Why does he think I'm crazy, do you think? What's his problem? God. And now every time I see him, I can hear Ned's voice, "He just looks like a dude to me."
So, that was pretty much my night. Nothing magical happened, except I got to hear what was new with the bartender, who's married, so. And what do I need to be dating a bartender for, anyway. Well, let's see, I'm 50, and my boyfriend is a bartender! Yeah. That's not sad.
The good news is, a new day yawns before me, but I have plans this evening to get together with one of the Alexes and The Other Copy Editor, Fmr tonight, so that'll be good.
If I see the Area Guy tonight, we'll know he's officially stalking me.
Just a dude,
JOOOOOON
