The freaks and whackos were out in abundance last night and there was nary a moon in sight. Colleen and I braved the thick and bluish air at Stogeez to enjoy the music of Hank Harris. How many times is it necessary to wash your hair to remove the smoky stench of cigars? I still catch a whiff of eau de saloon when I turn my head despite two consecutive latherings, conditioner, gel and a splash of body spray. Maybe I'll need to shave my head, drink a quart of Febreeze and wait for unstinky locks to grow in. Freaks and whackos, you say? It seemed that way, there were at least three or four psychodramas playing out among the forty or so patrons over the course of the evening. On the way back from the ladies', whom should I encounter but Mr. Shaken Not Stirred! A very friendly crazy man in a leather hat plopped down in the chair next to me and we bellered along with Hank the last chorus or so of T Rex's Bang a Gong. That was fun. Colleen spotted a fellow artsy/designer person just from the way she was dressed! And proceeded to have a lovely conversation with her. At one point during the evening, I stepped over to the bar to set down my empty glass and save the friendly and capable staff from having to collect it off the table. At the moment I was closer to the bar than the table where we had been seated for most of the evening, and, well, it seemed like the right thing to do. As I was performing this amazing feat of courtesy, I was informed by a woman standing nearby to step away from him and mind my own business. I thought I was minding my own business. I get in trouble even when I'm behaving myself! Colleen and Mr. Hank are now best friends, at the end of the evening, I got a smile and a wave and she got a hug, a very friendly exchange, and a second hug. Could this have something to do with the fact that she is a genuine and sweet and wonderful human being whilst yours truly is an acerbic smartass? The thing is, I am also a genuine and sweet and wonderful human being. Some people just bring out the acerbic smartass in me. That sounds like a lousy excuse. Okay, it is a lousy excuse. Do you ever find yourself in a situation where it feels utterly impossible to say or do anything appropriate? So you just accept spiraling into idiot mode? It takes a little effort to scrape off that blustery exterior to find the genuine me. I think I'm worth the effort. The jaded on the outside is just a defense mechanism I seem to employ to weed out the ones who eventually wouldn't be able to deal with my dark side, which would inevitably make an appearance. It's not a game, at least not a deliberate one, it's more of a reflex that fades to the background when I'm comfortable with me. Finding that place isn't always an easy task. I'm very fortunate that Colleen is such a genuine and sweet and caring person. We all need a friend who sees beyond the crusty outside to the good stuff inside. Particularly amidst the madness that at least as far as last night goes, I'm blaming on the new moon.
I think the FeBreeze would be best on the rocks, in the proper tumbler.
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