I went to The Lamp Post again last night after work; therefore, I spent most of today, unproductively either in bed or zoning out and mulling over some things.
This time I sat in the middle of the bar, which apparently is some invisible age line. To my right sat an elderly couple while all along the bar and tables to my left flocked (and shouted and sang) all the young dudes and 3 women (all blondes).
The elderly couple left early on, so that left me staring at the potato chips for sale and eavesdropping on the very drunk (and progressively more so) owner James talk to his friend Frank Kelly. Frank grew up in the neighborhood, went/goes occasionally to Northern University in Dakalb, IL, and wants to be a firefighter in a suburb.
Jackie, the hotter of the 3 bartenders Mike and I viewed during The Lost Weekend, goes to Northwestern University for her Masters/PhD in Stem Cell Research. She'd only seen James this drunk one other time since she's worked there. Her sexy bod and smug/seductive (sucker the boys into big tips) smile worked its magic on me and I ended up staying for a fourth Jameson on the Rocks. I fall for bartendresses and waitresses so often, it must be a psychological disease.
And now I'm going to Chump's for drinks to wish Backseat B. Farewell on her transfer, later/whatever to Fannie on her transfer, and congrats/whatever on "Honey" A. on her promotion to Floor Supervisor. General agreement is that she's going to be a "ball-buster" on the floor. We will keep on eye open.
I predict many see-ya's, keep in touches, beer, overpriced appetizers, "fake husband" jokes (me and Backseat B.), overly-sensitive moments that create momentary arguments I am only half into, cigarette cravings, more beer, might switch up to whiskey depending on the level of boredom, and then, lamely, we all break up for home around eight or nine o'clock.