George Nelson and Betty Davis Eyes

Plague has been sweeping the office all week, so we’re short-handed and coming up on a deadline. Which means an increase in the billable hour cap. While not mandatory, it’s HIGHLY encouraged that we hit the weekly cap. It’s also much appreciated, and of course generously compensated. Being greedy and profligate, I usually work my butt off adding to my paycheck while I daydream about what to buy. Last night I found it.

But first let me tell you about last night, because the evening seems to be developing into a Tuesday trend. Like last week, Seth invited me to Changes for some Trashy Tuesday good times. But with the increase in billables, I was stuck in the office until after 9 pm. I texted my regrets and law-ed away until it was time to drag home.

After 14 hours in the office I was tired, so I hopped on a bus and paid $1.25 for the 7 block odyssey home. But like Odysseus, I was destined to take a roundabout trip. Turns out the bus was headed up the hill past my condo to Manray. Fancy that! I figured I’d get even more value for my bus fare $1.25 by riding to Manray for a hard-earned beer then grabbing another bus down the hill.

Manray was dead but peaceful, so I pulled up my favorite spot at the bar and settled into a frosty glass of Mack & Jack’s. The bartender was chatty, and by 10 pm people started filtering in, so I ran into a few old acquaintances. Seth texted to see where I was, and then called to see if I was staying. Seth had been at Changes since he finished his shift at 7 pm, and clearly wasn’t ready to go home.

To tell the truth, my desire to go home was fading by the minute. I told him to meet me at R Place for some karaoke and drunken boy-chasing. Turns out, he was outside my condo building waiting to pick up Woodsy and Mike Hudson. Couldn’t be more perfect. I told him he should, if necessary, carry Carlitos out of the condo and to get all their butts up to R Place double-time. I downed my beer and headed up the street.

Occasionally the universe sends me a little message, and I’m generally too drunk to notice. When I walked in, a (very cute) bouncer who I had never seen before waved me in even as I was pulling out my ID. “You don’t gotta show me that,” he said, “I know you.” Ok, he was cute AND dumb, which are two of my favorite traits. But it seemed odd that he remembered me but I had no recollection of him. That alone should have told me this was a bad idea, but I was already too far gone.

Once upstairs I ordered a beer, grabbed a table, and signed Seth up to sing "Betty Davis Eyes." He’d done it the week before, but had had a cold and wanted a second chance. The boys rolled in about 2 minutes later, and we began drinking like we meant it. The surprise for the evening was Joey and Robbie came out. Robbie has been incommunicado since school started last fall. Especially on school nights. And Joey doesn’t get away with neglecting his boyfriend like some of us do. Seth brought Woodsy and Mike Hudson, Seth’s new lust interest, and they all insisted Carlitos was nowhere to be seen in the condo. Meaning he was in the bedroom watching Amor Real.

As the price for showing up Seth demanded a shot of Petrone, so I obliged and grabbed another beer. His song came up and he nailed it, and we had a shot to celebrate. Sean Barker wandered in, and we had a shot to celebrate. Things began to get fuzzy, and we had a shot to celebrate. That one stayed down, so we had a shot to celebrate. Ugh. What can I say, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

By midnight, Mike Hudson had (wisely) bailed, and Joey and Robbie were doing the same. Seth was in party mode, and didn’t have to work in the morning, but I decided enough was enough and said my good-byes.

Of course, enough wasn’t enough. Sean Barker left with me, and suggested we drop by the Eagle for a nightcap. Turns out it was Lesbian Night. Clearly, the lesbian community is looking for an outlet other than the Wild Rose, because the place was packed. Upstairs, the pool table was shoved in the corner, and that whole portion of the bar was jammed with dancing, sweaty lesbians. I like hanging with lesbians, but Sean Barker was less enthused, so we went out to the patio where the bears/leathermen/sissyboys had all run to hide from the girls. I did my level best with 2 different guys to get Sean laid, but he wasn’t really into it so I finished my beer and staggered home. With a quick stop to pick up a frozen pot pie, one of my many little drunken indulgences.

On the way home, I stopped to window-shop at Standard Home, a furniture store just up from my building. And there in the window was the object of my affection: a 6 foot long bench designed by George Nelson in 1948 (those of you into mid-century modern furniture will know what I’m talking about). It was gorgeous, and it's something I’ve wanted ever since I first saw one 5 years ago. I drunkenly resolved, there and then, that the extra money I make this month is gonna buy me that bench.

And Carlitos? Well, here’s why I keep him around: when I rolled in drunk at 1 am with my pot pie, he cooked it for me and made me a fresh salad to boot. And then cuddled when I came to bed. Yeah, I don’t deserve him, but I’ve decided I deserve that bench.