All About MEme: Quarter Beer Night in Indy

Supah

&

MommyBrain

have this little Monday MEme...I wanted to play, but am posting a day late.

Going forward this MEme will be a MommyBrain exclusive - check her out for details.

Today (Yesterday) We want to sit down, have some wine ... or several bottles and listen to you whine or gloat about your :

WORST DINNER EXPERIENCE

or

YOUR BEST DINNER EXPERIENCE

or maybe even

WHAT you would make us for dinner if we came to your house?

We don't care. Just feed us while you talk.

so away we go!

Back when Mommy Lisa was still just Lisa - over ten years ago - she lived in Indianapolis and worked at a radio station from 7 to midnight.

She had an on-off boyfriend that annoyed the crap out of her..."I am older and wiser than you and you should listen to me Lisa."  Do you THINK I liked that?  I wanted a real boyfriend.  Not this 42 year-old semi-retired guy who tried to tell me what to do WHEN he was around...

I had a bunch of guy friends I hung out with at the bar across the road from our apartment complex.  One night I was bitching to Dave and said,

I am sick and tired of Fritz the Wonderdog* and his bullsh-t.
"Really?  I have been wanting to fix you up with this guy on our shift." (Dave worked for FedEx)
You have???  You think I will like this guy?  I mean you KNOW how picky I am...look at Fritz the Wonderdog?  He is good looking and super-rich and I CANNOT STAND HIM any longer...
"Yes...I think this guy is PERFECT for you.  I will bring him by tomorrow so you can meet him."

I meet the guy.  He is cute enough and seems completely normal.  THIS should have been my first warning.

Flash forward to the Saturday before the SuperBowl, the night of our first date.  He is SUPPOSED to be picking me up and taking me to the Mexican restaurant near my apartment and I have been rushing around because I had a personal appearance that day at some stupid store or another...

The phone rings and it is my date.  "Hey Lisa, I am running behind because of the planning I have been doing for my SuperBowl party.  Can you meet me at the restaurant instead?"  Uh, sure.  When?  "In twenty minutes?"  Okay - that is fine.

It was NOT fine.  I had rushed to get ready, he called five minutes AFTER he was supposed to be picking me up.  Strike ONE.

I get the restaurant THIRTY minutes later and WAIT for another ten minutes.  Strike TWO.

He shows up in a denim suit, western shirt and bolo tie...ummm Dave?  HELLO?  You set me up with a fake cowboy.  I am secretly plotting Dave's death right now.  Thinking some sort of torture. 

After apologies and getting a table our waitress comes over and tells us that it is quarter beer night.

HALLELUJAH!

We each order one and begin the small talk, "What looks good to you?"  I don't know, seafood enchiladas maybe?  "Yeah, I was thinking Burrito" (go RIGHT ahead this date is going nowhere) So I hear you are having a SuperBowl party? 

yada yada yada through our beer and the start of the meal. 

The waitress thankful interrupts this starstruck evening with a query...

Would you like another beer?  and as I am about to say YES! this genious in wall-to-wall denim says,

"NO THANKS WE ARE GOOD."

WTF???  I am not an alcoholic.   Nor am I a teetotaler.  DUDE if you want me to stick around you better re-THINK that answer.  I am flummoxed.  The darn beers are a QUARTER and you can dig out an extra two-bits for another beer.  Strike THREE.

I sit quietly and respond to his random babbling about not wanting to get too drunk with his party and all - meanwhile it had not even been suggested that I attend.  I have been trying to give this guy the benefit of the doubt...but right about now I would rather punch him in his denim suited nads.

As the bill comes over I say,

Wow, look at the time.  I have to get up early tomorrow.  I guess I will head on home and really thanks for dinner we should do this again some time.  (It is about 8pm)

He stammmers, "Uh, yeah.  Okay I thought maybe..."

Bye now.

I SPRINT out to my car and high-tail it out of there.  Home, home, home to my cute little apartment to quickly phone all my gay boyfriends in the building.  Thankfully it is only just after 8pm so they are still getting ready to go out.  They rush to my place with wine and ideas for the best outfit for me to wear to go with them to the gay bar downtown.

And we trash denim knight the remainder of the evening.  In between gawking at the cute boys and drag queens...

And I punch Dave as hard as possible in the arm when I see him Sunday at our SuperBowl party.

* True story.  This boyfriend had introduced himself to me at this same bar...he lived in my apartment complex..."Hi I'm Fritz."  No you are not... "Yes, that is my name."  No REALLY what is the name your parents gave you?  "Fritz."  ^chirp chirp chirp^  "Really its Fritz and my brother is Hans."  Apparently your parents liked your brother better, because they named you after a dog.  "No.  Its a real name."  I know its a DOGS name. 
Apparently the appeal that Mommy Lisa had for dear old Fritz was that I gave him SH-T constantly...everything from calling him Fritz the Wonderdog to telling him his neon running shorts were a desperate attempt to hold onto his youth.  Ahhh, we were quite the match.

But this was the view from my cool apartment!