Darts of Pleasure

If you're looking for the latest trends in knitting or how to solve some advanced math . . . keep cruising to another blog. This post has very little if anything to do with knitting.

Since the fall of 2000, I've been going out for a few beers after work on Thursdays with my friend, M. Next to Lola, M hears about everything first . . . usually before the Flyer. Thursdays were always a place for us to kick back, rehash the week, and drool a little over our favorite bartender in a very "chaste and tip nicely" kind of way. Our Thursdays have taken a beating over the years, but this year the end of our dry spell was in sight and with the newly licensed drivers in the house, we were back with a bang. Both of us had been looking forward to this afternoon since Monday. So, with stupid grins on our faces, we walked back into our normal haunt only to find that we were in the Twilight Zone.

Bartender? Check. Cold beer? Check. Accordion/trumpet/sax music? Check. What the hell?! Fucking accordion music playing to the point where I had to cup my ear just to hear M talk (and no, I wasn't looking coy or sly . . . it was full fledged "I'll just practice for when my hearing goes"). I told her that I wanted a cigarette and a beret and to say things like, "Ah, you peasants you just don't understand life," but in a really horrible French accent. Then, just to mix it up and keep us on our toes, an "older gentleman" comes and sits next to M despite the plethora of empty seats. Maybe he thought we were groupies or maybe he mistook our utter confusion for desperation, but it wasn't pleasant. After the raging accordion solos, the band switched it up and transported us to the bayou with some wicked zydeco music. Honestly, at that point, I felt like I was in a Prilosec commercial and was looking around for a number to hold up to show how many days I've been heartburn free. Of course, I could have looked for a bat with which to bonk the band members, but I probably never would be allowed back in. That would have been the worse crime . . . not the music continuing but getting kicked out since I really look forward to my Thursdays.

Thanks for the suggestions about the colors. I am leaning towards turquoise for the BoBo yoke, possibly with a cream instead of the gray. And yes, Robert Downey, Jr. did a fabulously tasty job as Iron Man. Sequel? Can I buy my ticket now?

Ava

PS - pardon the mess . . . this is what I have to clean before I head to O-H-I-O tomorrow.   

Comments

[gonzomama]

I wish I had a drinking buddy (besides the husband). Heck, I wish I had one night a week to go out. Hell, I wish I could have a drink period! Have a safe trip.

[Cath]

And here I thought you might be writing about bust darts, or some such thing, which I have little/no need of. My weekly night out consists of knitting night with the girls--where the hardest drink I have is a lemonade.