October 11th - Ketchup

Playing a game of Catch-Up as I had a very busy weekend and never wrote in Ye Olde Goode Tymey Blogue. So now I'm going to fill you in on the fine details of the weekend.

First of all, The Beardo called me at work on Friday to say his brother was on his way here and he was in a panic. His brother, he said, was in a crazy state of mind and probably going to take The Beard's Jeep, drive into the desert until it blew up and then end his life. The word DISASTER kept appearing in the transcript of his conversation.

Friday night The Beard and I decided that we would pretend that all was well with his brother, even if it wasn't and simply raise the bar on conversations, motivations and living.

And then we went to my favorite wine bar where I know and love the bartenders (Sgt. Recruiters, if you must know) and had such a fine time meeting everyone else in the room. I was told someone sitting at the bar had a friend with a huge crush on me (yeah, I'm sure he could tell from a distance) because apparently I was in Zelda Fitgerald mode; crazy-flapper-style.

My Secret Crush turned out to be a short, stocky, part-Comanche hairdresser who not only was wearing an ascot and dressed like he could be a full-time extra on LOVE IN--He also had a giant, bobble-head of dark, over-styled hair that looked like a fully coiffed woman's wig.

My new boyfriend told me I had the most amazingly insane eyes.

I told him, Oh yeah, well I don't know what she's doing, but you've got Betty Davis' Eyes.

He responded that his ex-girfriend told him he had Shark Eyes and I replied that this could be the case only if sharks had Charlie Manson eyes...

He squealed that he loved me and had a hot tub at home.

I asked, Oh yeah? Not a Swimming Pool? I could only love a man with a swimming pool!

He said he could build one--His friends backed him up nodding and bobbing their heads and faux-whispering (loudly) how stinking rich this little nodder-head troll is and how he is also very nice and yadda, yadda, yadda.

I promised I would visit Trolly McTrollson at his hair salon.

He said, Good thing, because it looked like Stevie Wonder had done my hair.

I explained to him about my love of Bad Prom Hair, or the hairdo I affectionately call Always The Bridesmaid. I said this haido was most fun to take to a matinee, blocking the viewers behind you in a game of hair-do Chicken, daring them to ask you to move... I told him I had Rat Snipers nestled in my hair; hiding; waiting; daring him to say ONE MORE WORD.

He shrieked with gay delight (being a Male Hair Dresser after all) and pledged his love to a complete stranger with crazy eyes, too much eye make-up, big, ratty hair, giant earrings and a hot pink, hounds-tooth, three-quarter-sleeve jacket and super high-heels.

If that aint crazy, I don't know what is.

Then we escaped with our lives.

We went to the new wine bar down the street from home (Wine for The People) and tried the recommended Cotes Du Rhone--which I pretended was Just Terrible, not sure why, and somehow made these bartenders also my new best friends.

Next I met the owner of the place (very nice and friendly) and talked to her about the interior design, the menu, her hopes for the future of the location and the neighborhood--We covered everything but actually reading over her business plan together.

I told her I knew a troll with a hot tub that would love her--or at least I thought this very loudly to myself.

But wait, that was Friday and I was supposed to be Ketching-Up about Saturday.

Mearde.