Sober week
Here’s what happened last week as best I can recall. Dang…it’d be easier if I jotted things down immediately after they happened. As it is now, I’m having to use up all of my brain power. And I lose concept of time. And no one has any idea what actual date I’m talking about. I’ve thought about that actually, and I would put the date if I knew it. But Wimberley is like a time warp. I never have any concept of time. It’s hard enough for me to remember what day of the week it is, let alone what the actual date is. But just for reference, since I sort of know the dates are for this week, i can figure out that the dates mentioned below took place somewhere around and in between Dec 3 thru Dec 8.
On Saturday, which was approximately Dec 3, I already mentioned that I was extremely hungover. I spent most of the morning thinking I was going to die. But by evening I had recovered long enough to go see a concert. I mentioned that too I think. What I did not mention was that my first time ever getting to go backstage at a concert. By now I’ve probably been to over 300 concerts. But I’d never been backstage before. Now I have. It was pretty cool, but nobody really knew who I was so they were all a tad suspicious of me—like I was a Narc or something. Every now and then their conversations would get really hushed. I’m not a narc.
On Sunday I went to see another concert. Since I’m tired of going to concerts by myself, and since I knew the neighbor MK was looking for something to do I invited him along. Mercy. That was perhaps a mistake. He talked nonstop the whole ride there. While there he continued to talk. He’s apparently one of those people that can’t be quiet. When I met him I thought he was pretty socialable. He says he’s not comfortable in social settings. Turns out he’s not socialable. He’s just lonely. There’s a difference. On the way to the show he says “don’t let me get in any trouble with any good old boys. Good ole boys don’t seem to like me”. And he told me about nearly getting into a fight at the Backbone one night. I can see why rednecks might take offense to him. He often talks too much and often says some inappropriate things, and if you didn’t know him, by the way he talked you would perhaps think he was gay. I don’t figure he’ll get into any trouble at the show we’re going to.
We’ve only been at the show 5 minutes when a guy decked out in full cowboy gear walks guy. “Look at Buffalo Bill” he says, none to quietly. “There’s Buffalo Bill”. Yeah…no wonder rednecks want to fight him.
The place we went is not very big. You have to walk past the bar to get to the dance hall. “Where is the bar?” MK asks. I tell him. “Just up there?” he says. I say yes. He waits several minutes. Then he asks again. I’m starting to get irritated. I tell him to just walk back to the door that we came in and turn right. Or just follow the people. It’s really not hard. I had no idea he was so helpless. He wants to buy me a drink, but I’m still not drinking due to the excess from Friday night. I tell him no thanks. No alcohol tonight.
“What about a shot?” he asks.
Nope. A shot is still alcohol.
“What if they had Frangelica?” he says. (MK loves Frangelica. It’s his favorite drink. He tells us all the time about how he’ll stroll up to a bar and order a double shot of Frangelica from the female bartenders. Frangelica is a girl drink. It’s like 10% alcohol. It might impress a girl if you have Frangelica in your freezer for her, but it surely won’t impress her if you order it for yourself. Even if it’s a double. A double shot of bourbon or rum or anything else might impress the female bartender. not Frangelica).
"What if they have Frangelica?" he says.
I tell him that no, even if they have Frangelica I don’t want it.
I think I actually say that ESPECIALLY if they have it, I definitely don’t want it.
He finally just goes and gets a beer for himself.
We spent the rest of our time there with MK scoping out ladies and me just hoping time would pass by quickly.
“How old do you think that lady in the red sweater is?”
I have no idea.
“Do you know which one I’m talking about?”.
Yes. I’m terrible with ages. I have no idea.
10 minutes later:
“Did you see that lady in those jeans walk by? Wow. She was solid. She’d tear you up”.
Yup.
“How old do you think she is?”
We’ve been through this before, but I have to tell him again that I’m not good with ages.
Another cowboy comes by, and MK makes more comments.
We stay at the show a tad less than I would usually, but I was ready to go so we left.
On the way home MK is telling me some story about some guy that came into his store. A “John Chang”.
“A Chinese guy I think” he says, “Chang—is that Chinese, I think that’s Chinese, is that a Chinese name?”
I have no idea, I say. It definitely sounds Asian.
(I’m so exhausted by this point).
“It doesn’t sound Vietnamese” he says. "I knew a Vietnamese guy once. i don't think it's Vietnamese. it might be Korean. I’m not sure. Korean or Chinese”.
All I know is I don’t care. It didn’t matter at all. It did not affect the outcome of the story in any way. Not a bit. The story didn’t have a point anyway. I barely made it home. Maybe I’ll just go to concerts by myself from here on out.
Monday Mary and I went and finally checked out the Alamo Drafthouse. It was pretty fun. Monday night they have $1 movies. We went to see The Best of Britcoms. Some funny British tv shows--- 2 by guys from Shaun of the Dead. It was really fun. You can order food and drinks from a waitress at the Drafthouse. That rocks. I didn’t order anything. Mary got a beer and her friend got some food. I just watched. Mary’s friend talked loudly through a good bit of the movies. She was apparently unaware of movie etiquette. I should have known.
Mary had warned me that her friend was sometimes a little “much”. I thought mary was exaggerating. She wasn’t. The friend was supposed to meet us at our cabin and then we were going to drive into Austin. Mary gave her friend directions. Much time passed, and the friend wasn’t here yet. Friend finally called. The directions were very simple. It’s hard to not get here. It’s only 1 road once you leave Austin. And the first city you get to, you turn left. Easy enough. Mary’s friend missed it. She called and said she was in Johnson City. Johnson City is WAY past the city where she needed to turn. I tell Mary to tell her to turn around and go BACK to the city, and we’ll meet her there. If we don’t do that, we’ll be late for the movie. So we head out. As we approach the city her friend calls back. “Hey, where are you?” she says. I tell her we’re on our way to the gas station. I ask where she is. She’s still a ways from our meeting point. But she’s on the other side now! She’s near a landmark I know, so I tell her to just sit there and we’ll meet her there. She says ok.
Mary and I can’t figure out what she did. It’s impossible to get from Johnson City to the landmark she was at in 15 minutes. She couldn’t have done it. And then I figure out what she has done. And I figure out that she is not the smartest.
As she was driving, just as she was barely outside of Austin there was one of those road signs that they have on highways that tell you where you are going. They especially have them when a major highway splits. You know the ones. When the road splits, the arrow to the left will tell you the name of the next major city that you will come upon if you stay on the road, and if you take the split the other way, there will be another sign that does the same thing but tells you whatever next major city you will get to if you that way. These signs are common. People understand them. The sign that mary's friend undoubtedly saw, after the road split, said “Johnson City”, because Johnson City was some 20 miles away, and in case you wanted to make sure that you were on the right road after it split, it's good to be reassured that you are going in the right direction.
Most people understand those signs. Mary’s friend thought it meant she had reached Johnson City. Even though she was still technically in Austin. And even though Johnson City was at least 30 miles away. She must have thought she had driven through a time warp. So she pulled over. I wonder who was more confused—the gas station attendant, us, or her. Holy Crap. This girl is 24. you’d think you’d have figured out things like that. Mercy. Thank goodness we just told to wait or who knows where she would have ended up. Anytime there’d be a road sign telling you which direction you were going, she’d think she was there, and would pullover. She’d never get anywhere. How does she drive outside of her own city? How does she survive in life? She told a story about wanting to move somewhere far away, but not being sure if she could live on her own. Mary tried to encourage her that she could do it. I told mary later that was a horrible idea.
Tuesday night we went to another 50 cent movie. I don’t remember if I talked about that or not. (We still don’t have internet at home. We have to go to the library. So I’ve taken to writing up my entries at home, and saving them to disk, and then uploading them at the library).
We have had no success w/ 50 cent movies. Mary has decided that maybe we have to spend the equivalent of a real movie before we see a decent one. We should be getting close.
The rest of the week was way too cold and totally worthless. We spent 2 full days huddled up inside trying to stay warm. We tore through some fire wood. At first it was cool having a fire. By the end of the second day when the house, and everything in the house (including us) smelled like smoke, we were tired of the fire in the fire place.
It finally warmed up some by Friday.
And that let us enjoy the weekend.
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