I will be working in the Loop until around 6 p.m.
Maybe this little encounter will make you believe that I'm not a murderer.
I will even let you leave well in advance, to give you a little head start if you will, SHOULD I GET INFURIATED.
Also, I promise not to ask you for money. One or two drinks, bestest buddy, nearish downtown? What do you say?
Best,
You better not ditch me motherfucker.
But what you're not considering here is the time involved in getting to and from this 'downtownish' location. It'd be way easier on me if you just zipped over to my neighborhood, you know? Then the phrase 'on' hour would more accurately reflect the actual time involved on my part. Are you driving?
Meet half way. Wait, what the fuck is half way? Don't you live fairly south for living on the north side? Meaning, I remember when I posted a video of a POV drive along Division you said something about it being a walking route. Dude, Division is NOT that far from downtown.
I will take the blue line or something to Division if you drive me to Union Station afterwards.
Or maybe I could take a fairly cheap cab ride to the Twisted Spoke and have a meal-like bloody for dinner.
Or there's always cheap beer at the Bottle but that's my northern/westernmost limit.
And as far as downtown downtown goes, I'm totally unaware of any bar that doesn't have like $9 beers. Well, I think there's a Bennigan's.
If you are sincere about these things, we could meet up at some place 'cooler' than Bennigan's like Old Town or the Beachwood. In such an instance I could conceivably borrow the wheels from the soon to be other half and deposit you back at the station later.
I've never been to the Beachwood, tis on Wood St. no?
I'll meet you there around 7ish or sooner? Also, if I'm done with work before 6, which is a distinct possibility, I'll get there much much sooner. Possibly a cellphone number would be good.
- I called Josh after work and was (unknowingly) having phone issues so, after hearing a short, wry laugh and then dead silence, I figured he was possibly even a much bigger pig prick than I ever could have imagined.
- I continued to think he was a fucking asshole when I arrived at the bar and he was engrossed in a conversation with some dude about a billboard or something. He didn't even say "hi" as I walked in and sat down next to him. Instead, I got what I perceived to be a disapproving glance. I was about ready to cut him. This convo. of his went on for about 20 minutes it seemed.
- We drank cheap beers and he was surprisingly not an asshole, but I think it was only because I "look less disheveled" than he imagined. If I were disheveled or whatever I bet he would've pretended I wasn't there at all.
- But, after a few beers we went to his place where The Fiance made us a really awesome homemade pizza and I talked to and petted The God Damned Cat. I then realized that this whole sponging plan that I devised long ago may actually work. First pizza, then $500, then a room of my own and an allowance! One step at a time.
- I was, however, introduced to The Fiance as "the guy who said he was going to murder me," so that was kind of awkward. He now actually thinks that I'm NOT going to murder him. Poor bastard.
- He said my posts are redundant and shrill. I told him that I didn't care.
- I don't even really remember what we talked about most of the time, but I was semi-woozy and probably just talked about worthless bullshit anyway -- which is my specialty.
Overall, I was surprised to find out that Josh is more of a kind sucker than a snide asshole (the two sides of him that have been showcased on this board). The end.
- Figuring 6-6:30 as the meeting time per our arrangement, I got to the Beachwood at 6:15. I entered a little cautiously uncertain first of all exactly what Greg looked like and secondly whether I would be attacked. The Beachwood is a comfy but crappy neighborhood corner bar with a decent jukebox, a pool table, and the requisite Hendrix, Who, Chicago Cubs, etc., wall hangings. There’s nothing on tap and the beer options available are offered to the consumer by way of a line of empty bottles on a shelf. Calling 8 beers a ‘selection’ might be stretching it, especially when at least two of them were duplicates but I digress. Anyway, when my eyes adjusted to the dimness I didn't see anything that met my imagined approximation of Greg, which I’ll say for the record was that of a large, flatulent, suppurative man. At 6:15 on a Wednesday the population of the Beachwood consisted of just four middle aged dudes, all bald or gray, sitting at one end of the bar, drinking beer and watching The Simpsons. I plopped down next to them and got a beer.
- 6:30 – No Greg. The Simpsons ends. Seinfeld starts. It’s the episode where George switches the Yankees to all cotton uniforms and Jerry dates Ms Rhode Island. I’m thinking about the similarities between Greg’s persona and George’s. And thinking of it, he did go on quite a bit about Larry David and Jeff’s wife from CYE. Hmm.
- 6:32 – Phone rings. I can’t help but smile thinking it’s Greg calling to cancel. He says he’s in an elevator or something. The reception is bad which again, makes me want to smile or laugh as I imagine Rat’s Nest Brain fretting with his phone in an elevator. He’ll call me back. Ok, sure you will. I’ve been sipping slow, trying to space the beer out but I’m already half way through.
- 6:41 – Greg calls back. He’s in a cab now. He should be there in 15 minutes he says. The bar dudes have put Seinfeld on CC and are now rocking the jukebox. Someone starts with “Radio Clash” following with “Heartbreaker” and then some Tom Petty, “Breakdown.” Some other middle aged bald guy comes in, sits down next to me and starts talking to the bartender. Bored, I try my best to strike up a conversation with him. His name’s Jim, he lives down the street, blah, blah. We talk about the local grocery store and then segue into zoning requirements and new construction. At this point it’s probably about 6:55. A tall skinny guy walks in. I recognize that bloated face. I’m a little surprised though as he looks more put together than his teetering-on-the-brink posts had lead me to imagine. He wasn’t obese, sweaty, disheveled nor brimming with pustules. He sits down on the other side of me. Jim is still rambling. I don’t want to be rude and cut him short so I let him go for another minute or two. I turn to Greg, shake hands with him and smile. He seems obviously uncomfortable. This amuses me, mainly because I’m uncomfortable too. He tries to order Point to which the bartender responds by indicating the sad line of beer. Seeing him get awkwardly refused his beer request in an already awkward social circumstance probably made me smile again. He quickly explained Point was ‘good beer’, etc. I agreed, figuring it was important to establish early that I was on his side should a psychotic break occur over the course of the evening.
- We sat and talked for a good hour and a half, maybe slightly more. I think it was about 9 when we left. The dynamic was something like a flight of ideation on Greg’s part. One topic would lead to another which lead to another and so on though the common thread of everything being about him remained pretty solid. Result was that on balance he probably did most of the talking and I probably learned much more about him then he did about me.
- Around 9 we left the bar and walked back to my place. Sarah was making pizza when we came in the door. Greg said he was hungry, hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He kept saying he really wanted a burrito. There was a burrito place not too far down the street we could walk to, I said, or he could just have some salad and pizza with us. He seemed to reluctantly accept the pizza. We ate and had a conversation about Indiana Jones and Will Smith. After that I used Sarah’s car to drop him off at the train station.
- Overall I was surprised to find Greg less fat and sweaty than I had thought he'd be. Otherwise, I didn't get murdered. Yet.
Written Josh is so much more of a dick than in-person Josh.
I DIDN'T SEE YOU TRYING TO STEER THE CONVERSATION MOTHERFUCKER!
Oh, I mean, hey Josh! We should do it again sometime. It was, overall, a good time. But written Josh is fucking it up, so, yes, you may get murdered after all. :(
You're really turning into a shitty two-faced friend.
And you know what, I think you've also pissed away your good looks and God-given talent your whole life, turning you into nothing but a cynical, dirty mouth waste of flesh.
I need to remember this speech for the next time we hang out, and there's a Port-O-Potty nearby.
One that I will no doubt christen prior.
out now
Joined: 2006-08-23
Location: CHICAGOISH