bo-etic justice
just got back from dropping mrs. wintermute off at the airport. she's headed back to soflo; tomorrow morning i'm headed to portland, OR for the week for work. will head to soflo friday night. we had a great weekend. hit a cool restaurant in our hood friday night with my work team. since the boss & cfo were rolling, we lived large.
saturday afternoon, strolled through taste of atlanta at atlantic station. 10 tickets for $15 seemed like a rip-off at first, but i was full by the end. hyderbad cafe, which bills itself as authentic indian food, was worth the wait in line. i think it's a new place--will check it out (it's on little mumbai, aka lawrenceville highway in decatur).
saturday night, we met up with canadachick and breaking h. mrs wintermute hadn't see her girls since they left for their post-docs in new haven and bloomington, respectively (they were back in atl for a conference). neither town sounds that great. in a good case of silver lining, canadachick's lab is moving to new mexico, and it seems to be a good move for her and her dude. breaking h has had enough of the midwest i thinnk. it sounds an awful lot like the nati, but perhaps even more provincial. i think her exact words were "black hole of existence." or something like that.
after some food and frosty beverages in midtown, we hit a kind of random party--friend of jwatt and breaking h was hosting at his bachelor pad just off-bucktown.
walking through the parking deck, the aroma of raw sewage wafts and swirls around us. not something vaguely like it. i mean like a vat of shit, vacum sealed for 20 years, and then unleashed.
walking through the apt building, there's no question where the party is. as if we needed any help, there's a trail of vomit leading away from the door.
yup, this is it.
roll into a total sausage fest. just as i walk into the sweet sight of three frat dudes bouncing to justin timberlake, i'm assaulted by the sound of a girl retching in the bathroom. she's so wasted that she's rest her neck on the rim of the toliet. her friend is trying to hold her head up.
oh man, can i hold off on taking a leak for the duration of what will undoubtedbly be a sweet party?
the fridge features several cases of warm miller lite to entertain us. nice.
turns out a couple of the dudes are from ohio, so we talk bengals. who dey. then one of them mentions off-handedly that miami of ohio (his alma mater) is probably 'a lot like' emory (mine). i'm not drunk enough to to just nod this one off. emory is nothing like miami. it's nothing like it. it's the anti-miami. i tell him this. i insist on it. the conversation doesn't go much further.
so then i'm kind of skulking around the kitchen, catching up with canadachick. every so often during the night, i keep running into this one chick is who is just UNfriendly. like she sucks all of the fun out of any room. not sure what her deal is. or maybe dirty looks are just her normal facial expression. maybe that's just how she says hi. maybe she's pissed that seven random people showed up and are drinking all of her beer. totally fair point. but we were invited. kind of. well, jwatt and breaking h were. anyway, no reason to be a total bitch. the dirty looks are immature and uncalled for. have i mentioned that she's a total bitch?
anyway, while i'm skulking in the corner, this dude bo tries to convince that i'm not having enough fun. i hate when people tell me that i don't looking like i'm having fun. if that's the case, there's probably a reason.
he announces that the best bet is to throw me over his shoulder and carry me to the family room to drink more beer. i assure him that this would be the opposite of a good idea. i tell him he should pick up the other dude (miami guy). he nods, "oh yeah?"
so he flips miamidude on his shoulder, catching him by surprise. unfortunately, bo is drunker than he realizes and loses his grip. miamidude slips off his shoulder and lands on his head on the kitchen linoleum. thud. beer is everywhere. it looks pretty bad, but he seems to be ok.
bo staggers over. "man, you are smart. i'm glad i didn't try to pick you up." he grabs a bag of peas from the freezer and tosses them to miamidude for his head. then bo opens the fridge and swigs from a jug of V8. yeah, that V8. red vegetable juice. he mostly misses his mouth and gets it on his face and sweater. he blinks in disgust as he realizes what he's done.
"is this your purse?" he asks canadachick, pointing to a random purse on the counter.
"no, it's not."
"ok." bo picks it up and uses it to wipe bright red vegetable juice. it smears all over the purse. he staggers away.
canadachick and i laugh.
then the bitch walks up and grabs her purse.
that's what i call bo-etic justice.
saturday afternoon, strolled through taste of atlanta at atlantic station. 10 tickets for $15 seemed like a rip-off at first, but i was full by the end. hyderbad cafe, which bills itself as authentic indian food, was worth the wait in line. i think it's a new place--will check it out (it's on little mumbai, aka lawrenceville highway in decatur).
saturday night, we met up with canadachick and breaking h. mrs wintermute hadn't see her girls since they left for their post-docs in new haven and bloomington, respectively (they were back in atl for a conference). neither town sounds that great. in a good case of silver lining, canadachick's lab is moving to new mexico, and it seems to be a good move for her and her dude. breaking h has had enough of the midwest i thinnk. it sounds an awful lot like the nati, but perhaps even more provincial. i think her exact words were "black hole of existence." or something like that.
after some food and frosty beverages in midtown, we hit a kind of random party--friend of jwatt and breaking h was hosting at his bachelor pad just off-bucktown.
walking through the parking deck, the aroma of raw sewage wafts and swirls around us. not something vaguely like it. i mean like a vat of shit, vacum sealed for 20 years, and then unleashed.
walking through the apt building, there's no question where the party is. as if we needed any help, there's a trail of vomit leading away from the door.
yup, this is it.
roll into a total sausage fest. just as i walk into the sweet sight of three frat dudes bouncing to justin timberlake, i'm assaulted by the sound of a girl retching in the bathroom. she's so wasted that she's rest her neck on the rim of the toliet. her friend is trying to hold her head up.
oh man, can i hold off on taking a leak for the duration of what will undoubtedbly be a sweet party?
the fridge features several cases of warm miller lite to entertain us. nice.
turns out a couple of the dudes are from ohio, so we talk bengals. who dey. then one of them mentions off-handedly that miami of ohio (his alma mater) is probably 'a lot like' emory (mine). i'm not drunk enough to to just nod this one off. emory is nothing like miami. it's nothing like it. it's the anti-miami. i tell him this. i insist on it. the conversation doesn't go much further.
so then i'm kind of skulking around the kitchen, catching up with canadachick. every so often during the night, i keep running into this one chick is who is just UNfriendly. like she sucks all of the fun out of any room. not sure what her deal is. or maybe dirty looks are just her normal facial expression. maybe that's just how she says hi. maybe she's pissed that seven random people showed up and are drinking all of her beer. totally fair point. but we were invited. kind of. well, jwatt and breaking h were. anyway, no reason to be a total bitch. the dirty looks are immature and uncalled for. have i mentioned that she's a total bitch?
anyway, while i'm skulking in the corner, this dude bo tries to convince that i'm not having enough fun. i hate when people tell me that i don't looking like i'm having fun. if that's the case, there's probably a reason.
he announces that the best bet is to throw me over his shoulder and carry me to the family room to drink more beer. i assure him that this would be the opposite of a good idea. i tell him he should pick up the other dude (miami guy). he nods, "oh yeah?"
so he flips miamidude on his shoulder, catching him by surprise. unfortunately, bo is drunker than he realizes and loses his grip. miamidude slips off his shoulder and lands on his head on the kitchen linoleum. thud. beer is everywhere. it looks pretty bad, but he seems to be ok.
bo staggers over. "man, you are smart. i'm glad i didn't try to pick you up." he grabs a bag of peas from the freezer and tosses them to miamidude for his head. then bo opens the fridge and swigs from a jug of V8. yeah, that V8. red vegetable juice. he mostly misses his mouth and gets it on his face and sweater. he blinks in disgust as he realizes what he's done.
"is this your purse?" he asks canadachick, pointing to a random purse on the counter.
"no, it's not."
"ok." bo picks it up and uses it to wipe bright red vegetable juice. it smears all over the purse. he staggers away.
canadachick and i laugh.
then the bitch walks up and grabs her purse.
that's what i call bo-etic justice.
posted by Wintermute at 11:07 PM
2 Comments:
'scuse, Wintermute? That's what WHO calls Bo-etic justice?
ok, TM mrs. wintermute
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