my zejom



The weekend kicked off with dinner and cocktails at the Liberty. In attendance were Brugos, Elyse, Booze (who would apparently be disturbed to learn that she is being mentioned in a blog) and Scott. This was a totally different experience than my first one with Meep on a Sunday afternoon. Of course, a Friday will always have a different vibe than a Sunday as far as clientèle and crowd size, but this was also (and perhaps more so) an employee issue.

The sushi chef and waiter were different than the ones Meep and I encountered previously. I ordered the same drink that I had gotten before, but, for some reason, it wasn’t nearly as delicious (partly due to lack of a sugared rim?). The sushi rolls that Brugos and I ordered, whilst still delicious, weren’t presented as fancily. Perhaps these details had something to do with the difference in treatment of two single girls on a Sunday versus a group of mixed gender folks on a Friday. Regardless, it was a bit disappointing.

Things only got more uncomfortable as our waitress’ demeanor was slightly odd. She seemed like she had never waited tables before and was extremely nervous about it. She was meek and forgot drink orders repeatedly. Still, she carried a certain charm in her shyness. And she seemed to appreciate the fact that every time she came to our table, we were talking about something weirder. We also had a little drink mishap wherein the drink that Booze ordered (being the same drink that she had just gotten and liked) tasted different, and not at all pleasant. We passed the drink around and confirmed: it was gross. Scott remarked, with the waitress present, that it tasted like baby aspirin. The waitress thought he had said “baby ass”. Luckily, she seemed to find that funny, and not at all disturbing that this man might know what baby ass tastes like.

The small space began to fill up and, by 9, there were groups of people playing table vulture. Our couch spot was much coveted, but we were just about done anyway. A new waitress arrived on the scene. Unlike our cute and sensibly dressed shy waitress, this new blonde girl wore a ridiculously short shirt which would make it impossible for her to daintily lean down to take the orders of people sitting on couches. She, clearly believing herself to be super hot, didn’t seem bothered by this. She helped clear our table and asked Scott if he would like another beer. He said no thank you and she respondede with a bitchy smile with what I SWORE sounded like “good”. What the fuck? I asked Scott if she had just said “good”. It was loud in there so he wasn’t sure. However, after we had settled the bills with our shy little muffett, the blonde bitch (who Booze and I had just witnessed making a BIG show up putting her long, flowy hair in a ponytail), came up to us to collect our bills. “Are we all set here?” she asked. We said yes. This time, in NO uncertain terms, she flashed her cunty little smile at us again and said “good”. It occurred to me then that she was taking over the shift and knew that she wouldn’t be collecting the tip from us, so she wanted us out of her section ASAP. But she shouldn’t make it THAT obvious to people who may, one day, be in her section and responsible for her tip. Needless to say, I won’t be spending a lot of time in that place on a Friday or Saturday. Sunday is the way to go.

After we vacated the Liberty, the Boobergs and I crashed a birthday party for one of Brugos’ friends at the Canterbury. The birthday girl was extremely drunk. I’d never met her before, but she apparently felt it was her duty to mention the fact that she caught Brugos leaving Capital Hill at 7:30am on a weekday. She didn’t “want to get [him] in trouble” though. She mentioned it two more times, even after I told her that there was nothing suspicious about this and that the girl she saw him with was most likely me.

T’was the evening of the bitchy blonde waitress. I missed that sweet little blonde waitress with the piercing and said so, realizing after the fact that it made me sound like an 80 year old man. I suppose that wouldn’t be the first time I have sounded as such.


I spent most of the day getting ready for the Hovelwarming: Two trips to Safeway, one trip to Walgreens, one trip to the liquor store and one trip to the party store on 15th. (Thanks to the ailing Meep for accompanying me on errands). This was followed by a good cleaning of the apartment. Of particular note, I used TWO lint rollers in their entirely in order to clean all of Tobe’s hair off the couch. And this was AFTER I vacuumed it. Note to self: invest on a cream-colored couch cover and pillow set ASAP. Or shave Tobe.

I then started in on the baking. I finished decorating the Triscuits with easy-cheese just as the first guest arrived.

The party was a lot of fun. And most of you should know as you were there. Thanks to the Boobergs for the truly lovely orchid (my first plant in the new place…god, I hope I don’t kill it) and to Meep for the AWESOME framed picture of my sweet little Tobe. Thanks Borg for the long-coveted costume dress (which I can only hope looks at hot on me as it did on Borg). Thanks, Ahe for the gourmet boxed wine and to Howland for the traditional Franzia variety. I now have enough cheap wine and beer in my apartment to last at LEAST a week.

The only awkwardness occurred when LITERALLY everyone I work with arrived. They had been drinking since noon. They were in frat mode. They didn’t mesh with my other guests. They also may have pissed off my neighbors when they loudly shotgunned several beers out back. Note to self: keep co-workers and friends separate when’ere possible. Further note: hide rubber novelty dildos when boss is in apartment, for he will surely chase the receptionist with said novelties.

The evening finished out with Sherwood, Borg, Howland and me enjoying the cool night air in the parking lot and debating not whether or not the destruction of humanity will occur, but when and how. It looks grim, but if I find myself at the end of the world with similar company, I won’t complain.

Something compelled to wake up early and clean. Perhaps it was the knowledge that I had a bit of a search on my hands for all the kitchen objects that my boss and the intern had decided to hide the previous night. Perhaps it was the dips and hors de’ oeuvres festering in the kitchen. Regardless, I was quite proud of myself when, an hour later, the only evidence of a raging party sat in 3 bags of recycling. If I can keep up this kind of compulsive cleanliness, I might actually be mistaken for an adult.

Brugos joined me for breakfast, after which we hit the road to seek out the ultimate mini-golf experience. This experience was found at Parkland Putters in Tacoma. It was a lovely day to be outside. With 4 courses to choose from, we ventured the “wild and hilly” course. It was indeed challenging, but we welcomed it. And we each scored a hole-in-one during the course. We received ribbons to commemorate our competition. Brugos was sported the blue and I the red, but it was a close game. Besides, everyone knows that first place is second loser. NO FEAR!

We wanted to do a little T-Town karaoke but had hours to kill before this would happen, so we decided to fill our bellies and hang out at Point Defiance for a bit. We lunched at El Toro (not the one that Meep and I used to frequent, since that one was reduced to ash and rubble in a fiery inferno, along with our dreams and innocence), grabbed delicious Antique Sandwich Company milkshakes and snagged a nice little spot on the world’s softest grass on which to digest.

After that, we wandered around Never Never Land, Fort Nisqualy, and the waterfront, before heading to Bob’s Java Jive to await the karaoke.

Bob’s Java Jive is the very definition of a punk rock dive bar. Why there isn’t a place like that in Seattle is beyond me. Brugos pointed out that were a punk rock dive bar that had a smoking patio and karaoke 7 nights a week in Seattle; it would have been packed with people, even on a Sunday. In Tacoma, however, the place was empty. Eventually, the DJ showed up. Brugos and I were the only people in attendance who weren’t close personal friends of the Java Jive. The song selection was pretty good and there were definitely some unusual selections available. We were kind of nervous to be singing at what essentially felt like a private party that we were crashing. They didn’t seem to thrown by our presence though. Twice when Brugos was up, the ENTIRE room (which was only 4-5 people) went outside for a smoke. This included the DJ.

Before we knew it, it was 11:45 and, this being a school night, DEFINITELY time to hit the road. Since it was late Sunday night, we assumed that I-5 would be empty and that we would be home in no time. Dead wrong. Apparently, some genius decided that Sunday night was the perfect time to reduce I-5 from 4 lanes to ONE. Very frustrating. This was compounded by the fact that we both had to pee. Eventually, the merging was complete, we had peed, and traffic was moving normally. But it was well after 1am by the time I was snug in my bed. Amazingly, I am only HALF a zombie today.