Pluto Went J.V.

I just returned from a bar. If you lived in my world, you'd know that's about as rare an occurrence these days as Halley's Comet. Good thing, too, because I can get a hangover from merely looking at the margarita salt, sort of a Lot's Wife scenario.

Anyway, the pain I'll be feeling tomorrow might just be worth the gems I heard tonight. First, it was my friend (who we'll call "JM"), telling me, "I'm tempering myself with beer." I'm sure that's what Carrie Nation had in mind.

Then I had the bright idea of compiling a "top ten" list of drunken behaviors. Most of them are mine, and admittedly we not only omitted a few obvious ones, but also spilled over the limit:

1) overly emotional or earnest
2) calling exes
3) dancing with myself* (this is that solitary person who interacts with no one, and might as well be drinking at home, alone).
4) grandiose resumé.
5) cock-blocking (sorry, I couldn't think of a fresher way to say that).



At this point, I got the bartenders involved, which was my plan all along. Because, who better to comment than the constant observers?

Bob immediately jotted down three -
- ordering your next drink in Spanish.
- looking at your watch contemplatively before ordering next drink.
- saying, "I've got hers," really loud when any woman orders a drink.

Fair enough, Bob. Your second's my favorite.

6) under-realized self-realization* (pure genius, JM)
7) I've got your number (the guy who thinks he gets you, and can't resist telling you all about it).
8) love at first sight (this happened to me later, but we'll get to that...)
9) sad clown (I fear that if I visited these places with any sort of regularity, this would be my category).
10) feel my implants!

Number eleven was inspired by a fellow two stools over who, once my friend stepped out for a smoke, broke the fourth wall and insisted that he had some divine right to espy what I'd written all over the cocktail napkin because, as he put it, "I've dropped enought money at this place tonight." I told him I didn't see what that had to do with me, and let's face it, I'd been snubbing him all night. Mostly, I didn't like it when he thought my Britney Spears impersonation was real, and wouldn't believe I wasn't from the South. Not so much that he didn't believe me (and nothing at all against the South), but because he was so smirky about it.

After, there was another miscomprehension of double smirkiness when he saw my friend offer me a Ben Franklin. It was an expression I wanted to smear off his fool face. I'm sure it looked dubious at best, but really it was an encouragement to fulfill my threat of standing up on my seat and hollering, "Who here's going to knock me up?" Because, you see, I have this secret fantasy life of ways I'd like to act out, that I'll never likely do.

11) guy who keeps looking at you crudely, as if you've ever even noticed he exists.

12) Plan B.

Plan B could be interpreted several ways, which is generally the ways I like it. It was inspired by the muted television overhead, and a news story about the morning after pill. I just figure that drunk people often forget certain precautions, necessitating a Plan B. Still, it could refer to a consolation prize you take home, yet another reason I don't dabble much in this bar culture.

On the way to the door (that would be before eleven, cause I'm like an old lady, though sadly no one's old lady at the moment), I was stopped my a rather handsome, if overly shaggy, fellow in a basketball jersey who proclaimed as soon as I halted, "I'm in love with you," thereby validating my inclusion of number eight. "Really?" I asked. "How can you tell, did you read my aura or something?"

"I just knew when I saw you walking over." Then he politely said some very praising things, so I decided to refrain from further sarcasm. If you tell me I look like Michelle Pfeiffer, I'm unlikely to be bitchy. Still, that doesn't mean I'm going home with you, whether you're from Hot-lanta or not. The second time he professed his love, I said I didn't think one could really know that for at least a year after being with someone. The third time he told me, I replied, "Finally, someone is." Then I touched his arm, and tried to segue out with a, "nice to meet you." He clutched his chest above his heart (I'm not kidding), and said, "Well, you know where to find me." I walked away. Cute as he was, that was never going to happen.



*contributions of my friend. Thank you JM.