Last night was...so ridiculous, mostly in a you-had-to-be-there, tension-so-thick-I-could-have-served-it-on-toaste sort of way, but I'll try to recap for the sake of my future self who may wonder what Life Was Like when I was 23.
This guy Griffin plays in this band that has a standing gig at my bar every other Thursday night. I've gotten to be more-than-acquaintance, not-quite-friends (like, if I saw them at the store I'd stop to say hi, but wouldn't ask how they were doing) with the people who play, and Griffin has started dating my coworker, Suzanne, and Zhon (pronounced John; too ashamed on his behalf to ask if he changed the spelling himself), a guy in another band, is dating her daughter, Samantha. I've gotten to be quite close with Suzanne, and she's been confiding in me all the gossip between the two couples, which essentially amounts to Griffin and Suzanne really liking each other but Griffin being an emotional infant and avoiding any communication that might lead to happy coupledom, and Samantha and Zhon trying to get them into a commitment that Suzanne doesn't really want. Ok, so anyway, it's not that interesting or dramatic, really, compared to, say, Coast Guard husbands who cheat on their wives with transvestites and their wives who sleep with their girlfriends...that's a little more juicy. But this is the gossip I am currently privy to.
Last night, they all played and it was a relatively slow night, being the holidays and all, so Suzanne went and got some whiskey. (We don't have a liquor license at the bar and just serve beer and wine.) I don't drink hard alcohol often anymore, but I knew the night was going to suck and I've pretty much given up on being a responsible, mature adult for the rest of the year, so when Suzanne offered me a shot, I took a double, and sipped hot toddies all night. That wasn't the issue; I was the most sober person there, as it should be. The issue came when this ultra-obnoxious John Morrison wannabe came in with his spacey girlfriend and took over the stage between sets. He's friends with Griffin, and it was ok for, like, half a minute, and then people started leaving. I didn't mind too much; I didn't lose out on too much money, if any. So Zhon comes up and tells me that if Chris' open mike-esque ramblings get annoying, to let him know and he would get him off the stage. After a few minutes, I said, "Yeah, now would be a good time." So he goes to get Suzanne and Griffin to usher him off the stage, almost everyone else is gone at that point, and I'm kind of happy that I get to close early. Zhon, shitfaced drunk and stoned off his ass, decides to take Chris' shenanigans as a personal affront, and starts talking v. loudly about how fucked up it was for Chris to not only ruin my night, but for everyone to leave before Zhon's second set. I threw my hands up, told Zhon it didn't make any difference to me, and to not drag me into it. Which he proceeds to do for the rest of the night.
It's at this point in the evening that I decided I could not beat them, and so I would join them, so when a friend of theirs started rolling a joint on the bar while the doors were still open (I mean, I live in California, it's not a big deal--one of the former bartenders used to sell pot from behind the bar and I still get "secret worded" about it--but I'm responsible for the goings-on in the bar. Which is why one might argue that it's my fault that Chris got up on the stage in the first place, even though it's kind of understood that Griffin and Zhon are responsible for what happens, it ultimately comes down to me to keep the bar as a whole happy). Anyway, when the guy, whose name is Catfish Charley, like, what kind of existential reality have I fallen into, offered me the joint, I took one really long, dreadful hit, and spent the rest of the night wondering why somebody turned on a strobe light. Like, I miss every other second of activity because it takes me brain that much longer to process real-time events. What an idiot I am sometimes.
Anyway, Zhon's stormed out at this point, Samantha's crying that he won't call her back, Suzanne's pissed at Griffin for letting Chris on the stage at all, and everyone's doing all my closing work for me so I lock the doors and start closing out the register. By the time everything's done, it was barely 2am (awesome), so we hung out for a bit and I was able to show off my follies for the masses (sometimes I put on a little show when I'm bartending and start imbibing a little too early in the evening--a bit replete with jigs, jokes, good-natured ribbing, sometimes I even throw in a Charleston or two). Anyway, they ate it up, being a good audience, and I think I may have made Griffin's brother a little enamored of me. Which is actually unfortunate, since he revealed himself to be a bit of an ass when I paid him and he didn't tell his brother and Griffin was telling me that he didn't care that they didn't get paid, and I was able to inform him that, indeed, they did get paid, and thanks, Griffin's brother, because that was going to make me out to be the asshole who doesn't pay her band.
I should be used to this stuff by now, but it always amazes me what people can get away with. The other thing that has had nothing short of an epiphanic effect on me is that when you know what you need, when you ask for specific help, people are almost always more than willing to give it. It just shocks me when people don't let me down.
Looking back on it, last night was actually totally shitty, but I'm in a great mood anyway. Here's a few reasons why: I'm rocking a fantastic new hair cut, complete with a return of the green streaks. I made my last payment towards the Spain trip and am completely out of debt again. Suzanne told me that 2008 is supposed to be fan-fucking-tastic for Capricorns, which, 2007 sucked, so bring it. Katie (my friend since middle school, not the one who lets boys hit her) and her fiance are coming to visit tonight. And my surf shop boss bought me some peppermint bark. Oh, and I got my LSAT scores and, in spite of the fact that I was sick and hadn't studied, I got a good enough score to begin the law school application process. Oh! And Jenny moved out without saying goodbye.
And I'm leaving for San Francisco tomorrow, after Jason buys me breakfast, and I actually have people to visit--Geo, Esp, Celise, and my brother, of course. It's all almost enough to make me not care about how fat I am