THAT TIME OF THE MONTH

We had our monthly Yat Together on Wednesday at G & B Patio and Grill. We waited until this week because Kevin had just come back into town from Georgia. I can't give away any details to protect the innocent and his identity, but Kev now is part of an organization. Good for him.

The meeting was for 7 p.m. While I'm talking to Minkus on the phone about the off-the-hook season premiere of Heroes, I get text messages from Kelli (6:06) and Christina (6:13) saying they can't make it tonight. That put a quick damper on the evening. If only they didn't have lives. You know, like me. 

The September party crewe (Amanda, Greg, Kevin, myself) powered through the absences to make the best of the evening. I picked G & Bs as a sort of throwback evening. The grill is attached to the bar Madigan's on South Carrollton. Back in my early college days, this was our bar of choice. I spent a good many nights throwing them back with the gang at Madi's. 

Greg and I chat for a solid 15 minutes about the Heroes premiere. So far everyone I've talked to has liked it (if you don't count Lisa's facebook status). Amanda says she loves her new job. Except the one time a teacher thought she was a student and yelled at her for not having on her uniform. Ha. Ha. Kev tells us he has adjusted well to his new schedule. 

Halfway through dinner (I had the cheddar cheese burger), we notice that Amanda is texting an awful lot. She tells us she's texting her cousin who goes to Tulane about how she's having dinner with three guys. Her cousin wants to know if we're attractive. Amanda also mentions that she almost brought her cousin to dinner to balance out the male-female ratio. But her cousin declined in order to study. Now, the cousin is regretting the decision. Kevin, Greg and I tell Amanda to convince her cousin to come join us. We couldn't all strike out, right?

Kevin: Your cousin. She hot?

Amanda: She's very, very cute. She knows how to party, but she's a good girl, too.

Kevin: Oh yeah. How old is she?

Amanda (matter-of-factly): 18.

Kev, Greg, me: (Dead silence.)

That might be information with which you want to lead. I'm getting desperate but not that desperate. I couldn't even consider dating someone who was in high school four months ago.

By 9:15, the rest of the September party crewe had decided to call it a night. Greg had to finish his law school homework. Amanda and Kevin were approaching bedtime. Boy, do we have different schedules. Still, the evening was one of the highlights of my month. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom was watching Tuesday's episode of House when I walked into the living room today. Normally, we watch the good doctor together. I ask why she didn't tell me she started watching it. "Fuck you, Gene. I'm sick of your shit. It's fucking bullshit. I've had these fucking headphones on all day." 

Mom reads the TV columnist's picks for Wednesday. "Dave's an asshole. (I ask why.) He wants me to fucking watch CSI: New York." (Mom is loyal to CSI:Miami, which Dave said not to watch Monday).

I'm trying to figure out how to work her VCR in the dining room to watch the season premiere of Heroes. "It's just like any other fucking VCR. You turn it on. You rewind. You hit play. You fast forward the commercials. You hit stop. I don't understand your problem. What's the fucking deal?"

I'm discussing lunch options with mom. I tell her I'll heat up the rest of the spaghetti and meat sauce. She takes this to mean I want to eat the rest of the red beans and rice. She doesn't feel like making cornbread at first, though. "Fine. I'll make the fucking cornbread!"

I rewind the VCR two hours to start watching Heroes. I didn't realize it was a two-hour premiere. I was expecting to see the start of an hour-long preview instead of the first hour of the premiere. "Ha. You don't know what the fuck you're watching." Mom doesn't like how loud I'm playing the show. "Fucking 36 (the volume). You're gonna blow out the fucking speakers." I'm having trouble putting away the headphone wires when I'm done the show. "You can't fucking put a fucking thing up there."

Mom asks how big a pimple is on the side of her head. I say not too big. "I can sure fucking feel it. Fuck."

Mom comes into my room while I'm watching poker. She looks at my rack of TV shows on DVD. "That's a fucking mess. Fucking 24 takes up a whole fucking shelf." She's still upset about the volume I had Heroes at earlier. "My fucking speakers were humming."

Mom's VCR starts acting up. It won't let her stop it using the remote or the button on the VCR. Weird. She thinks it's because of this sunglasses looking symbol. "What the fuck is that symbol?"

Mom watches the beginning of the 10 p.m. news. "Fucking economic shit is so far in the fucking toilet." (That's the best summation I've heard about this problem. You?)

I NEVER HAVE CRUEL INTENTIONS. HONEST.

I'm starting to think I'm not a good person. In the past two days, these things have been said about me to my face. 1) "You're not the most considerate person." 2) "You were being a dick." In neither case was I aware that the other person could possibly feel this way. Of course, these comments caused me to turn defensive. In doing that, I might have made it worse.

Taking these comments to heart, I realized that I've really been pissing a lot of people off recently. However, I've come to the conclusion that I can't be evil. I just can't be. I didn't mean to do any of this mean stuff. Most of the time I've apologized. I do good things too, you know. 

No matter what my mom says, I do give a fuck about other people.

PARTING SHOTS

I'm watching the World Series of Poker on ESPN. Poker pro Phil Laak folds his hand after much deliberation. His opponent shows him the winning hand. 

Laak: "6-8? That's a straight. I got lucky. I just went into the back of my head and flipped a coin. It came out odds. And I was like, 'Odds. I fold.' I really wanted to call, but the coin sat there in the back of my head." (Weird. Most of my coins have heads and tails.)

Retro quote: September 24, 2004

The Maroon is set to have a shindig at Friar Tuck's later in the day.

Gay Joe: "Thomas, are you going to our social at Tuck's?"

Thomas: "Tuck's? I ain't wearing no tux to no freaky bar social."

(Thomas was an odd one. Whatever happened in his shooting trial? Anyone know?)

THE DAILY TOP LIST

When I was at Madigan's on Wednesday, I recalled all the good times had there. Here are my top five memories of the watering hole.

5) The raid. October 2004.

It was a typical Saturday night at Madigan's. I was mingling among several different groups. David, Alex, Greg and Bones (more on him later) were playing pool in the back. Christina was sitting at a booth with her friends. Kevin and his high school cronies were probably there somewhere. At about midnight, I was talking to Greg in the back. 

Then the cops came, badges blazing. Luckily, I decided not to drink that night. Don't remember why. I was three weeks from turning 21. Getting a ticket in a bar raid would have sucked. David and Bones got tickets. In court, I think they had to pay $110, but as a first offense, it didn't go on their record. Greg was in between drinks and escaped. Apparently, Alex had a sixth sense and detected the presence of the cops right before they got there. In like a split second, he poured the beer out in the trash, put the empty glass on a counter and began putting chalk on a pool stick. It was like he had done that before. 

The raid took like an hour and a half to finish. It wasted the night. And the next three weeks for me. Madi's started carding at the bar after the raid. Stupid cops.

4) The best shots ever.

We were there so much we were all on a first-name basis with Bill the bartender. David, Bones and Kevin would even have extended conversations with him. Bill experimented behind the bar with his own drink concoctions. First there was Wild Bill, a shot that tasted like pixie sticks. Girls really like that one. Then came Kill Bill (yes, there was a Vol. II), a shot that combined 14 (yes, we counted them as we watched him make it) hard liquors. Hit the spot every time. 

3) Math guy. May 2004.

Kevin used to have these Luaus at his house at the end of the school year. (If you recall, I had 33 jello shots at one of them.) As this particular one was winding down, a bunch of us decided to go to Madigan's to top off the night. We got there right before 3 a.m. We meet this drunkard on the patio. Alex convinces him to chug a pitcher of beer. The son of a bitch does it. Quicker than I could chug a tall glass. And I'm not slow. Granted, he upchucked in the bushes about two minutes later. But still.

He must have drank about six pitchers by himself. Pretty soon he was telling us his life story. He was a math major at Southeastern. Someone asked him: "A math major? Why'd you choose that?" He responded: "Because math don't lie, you know. Other majors, they lie. The pigs on my farm, they lie. But in math, there is always an answer ... because math don't lie."

2) Slackers. Fall 2003.

We won the intramural championship at Loyola. After every victory, we met up at Madigan's and knocked back a few pitchers at 8 or 9 p.m. My car would still be in the school parking lot. I'd get drunk at about 9 or 10 p.m. and go back to the girls' dorm to crash. That was the life.

 

One time, a Miller beer supplier was in there. Alex's nickname was Miller Time. The supplier saw Alex's jersey with the name on it and bought us a round. 

1) Adam's birthday. February 1, 2005.

Adam's Slacker name was Bones Jackson. I've never called him Adam since. I introduce him as Bones. He is the greatest character I know. His 21st birthday bash was at Madigan's. So was David's. So was Greg's. For his B-day, Bones kept demanding that everyone buy him a shot. This is no exaggeration. Bones put down 22 shots in a two-hour period. He actually seemed fine. But the 23rd shot did him in.

Kevin hadn't bought him a shot yet. He kept telling Kevin, "Kevin, you motherfucker, get me a shot, dammit." Kev kept saying he'd get to it. One time when Bones requested a shot, Kev was busy talking to a young lady. Big mistake by Bones.

Kevin (turning to Bones): You want a shot?

Bones: Yeah.

Kevin: Fine. I'll get you a shot.

Kevin (walking up to Bill): What's your nastiest shot?

Bill: Well, I got this one shot ...

Kevin: No. No. Nastier than that.

Bill: OK. (Bill makes the shot and explains what it is to Kev.) Here you go.

(Kevin returns with the shot and gives it to Bones.)

Kevin: Here's your shot.

Bones: What is it?

Kevin: It's called a Greasy German.

Bones: German, eh? Fuck yeah. I love Germany. (He had actually been there.)

(Bones takes the shot. It doesn't go down easy. You can tell Bones feels uneasy all of a sudden.)

Bones: What was in that?

Kevin: I don't know all the ingredients. But the secret one is mayonnaise. 

Bones: What the fuck dude?

Kevin: You said get you a shot. Next time don't interrupt my conversation.

After hurling in the bathroom, Bones got out-of-control drunk. I learned on the phone later from David that Bones told him to pull over on a residential street. Bones then got out the car and collapsed on some one's lawn. David retrieved him, but not before Bones ralphed all over the person's lawn. 

Two lessons: Don't take a shot of a Greasy German and don't piss off Kevin. Rules I live by.