Sunday, January 08, 2006

First Pics of 2006

@ The Ho
Originally uploaded by Mac(3).

On New Years Eve, I went with Trying Harder, C.C., and Doodlehead to a party in Logan Square. A lovely evening it was, hosted by the ever charming sisters M.U. and C.U. in their bright red apartment.

Everyone chatted.

I guzzled Jameson and Diet Coke the evening through, all the while staring yearningly at two beautiful Eastern European women; I wished my bestest Wingman were by my side. Of course, the Euro-hotties turned out to be 17 (WTF?!?!? Must all the ladies I lust after be unattainable?)

Then the ball dropped and Midnight sounded. I didn't get a glass of champagne in time, so I drowned 2005 and toasted the New Year in with Jameson Whiskey. Good to ring in 2006 with friends: Mike, M.B., C.T., N.J., R.S. and others.

And the soon-to-be-mamisita got tired, so the four of us headed out into the night for home. I slurred and babbled some crap about wanting to baby-sit the awaited child, and C.C. politely said that'd be nice (though after sobering up, I realized what a dangerous and ridiculous thing that would be. How can one take care of an innocent child when one cannot take care of oneself?)

We dropped the pair off at home, and then I had Doodlehead drop me of at The Ho. A crowd still sat drinking in the New Year Cheer (um, like eight people). I drank a pint, did a shot, and talked to Larry about kids, bartending, and this'n'that. A guy comes in, stands next to my barstool and drinks a Bud. We chat about Retail Hell (he works for some local Tea Chicago Chain, starts with an "A". I'm thinking job networking as he's the Assistant Manager for two of the stores, but Bob's thinking of networking in a different way:

"I live right across the street," he tells me 3 times until I get his drift. "Come ooon, why not?"

"Sorry, dude, I like breasts." I say and he gives up and goes home...right across the street.

I am hoping this isn't some sort of foreshadowing for this year: no Champagne, underage women, and the first time I get hit-on in centuries, it's a guy.

Larry yells "Last Call" and "Happy New Year," so I tip him and stumble out the door and home.

Not right across the street.

Some pictures: Here.


Barb said...

That's a great story, Mac. I'm sorry it turned out, um, unconventionally, but it's a great story.

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