actually i had scotch last night so i can't complain.
I learned several things this evening. Some of them I knew before.
One thing is that Methodists make darn good pie.
Second is that the old Pink has gritty benches and this bothered me far less than one would think. (Good thing I wore brown.)
The evening involved both the Eden Corn Festival way the hell out in Eden, which made me a bit nostalgic for the Schaghticoke Fair of my youth, and also a trip down to Allen St. downtown that made me a bit nostalgic for NYC. "It's kind of like," Z said, as we wandered past Q and Cathode Ray, "when you'd get off the PATH at Christopher Street and there was just all this... gay."
"Hang on," I said, brushing at his shoulder, "you got some gay on you."
Despite a particular bar having been voted Most Lesbian Friendly in Z's newsweekly's annual poll, I didn't dare go into it, because there was not one female that was actually genuinely a female and had no Y chromosomes. There were female-ish persons, but they were not actual genuine females, and so I just couldn't bring myself to drag Z in there. (Although he professed himself willing to enter.) I dunno, I just haven't... I don't think i've really been to a gay bar since I was last an actual practicing gay person, and I'd feel sort of funny going there now. Like a white person in a black Baptist church, like I was just there to be a tourist. I mean... I dunno, now's not the time to get into how inept that metaphor is.
But Methodists in Eden make damn good pie, and also passable bbq. We couldn't really complain.
But at some point, some insect has very itchily bitten my left breast four times, and it's just a bad situation inside my bra. We are not amused. We are unhappy. More bourbon would be employed to remedy the situation, but 1) we have no more bourbon, and 2) I have to work tomorrow and the day after and the day after and the day after and the day after.
I learned several things this evening. Some of them I knew before.
One thing is that Methodists make darn good pie.
Second is that the old Pink has gritty benches and this bothered me far less than one would think. (Good thing I wore brown.)
The evening involved both the Eden Corn Festival way the hell out in Eden, which made me a bit nostalgic for the Schaghticoke Fair of my youth, and also a trip down to Allen St. downtown that made me a bit nostalgic for NYC. "It's kind of like," Z said, as we wandered past Q and Cathode Ray, "when you'd get off the PATH at Christopher Street and there was just all this... gay."
"Hang on," I said, brushing at his shoulder, "you got some gay on you."
Despite a particular bar having been voted Most Lesbian Friendly in Z's newsweekly's annual poll, I didn't dare go into it, because there was not one female that was actually genuinely a female and had no Y chromosomes. There were female-ish persons, but they were not actual genuine females, and so I just couldn't bring myself to drag Z in there. (Although he professed himself willing to enter.) I dunno, I just haven't... I don't think i've really been to a gay bar since I was last an actual practicing gay person, and I'd feel sort of funny going there now. Like a white person in a black Baptist church, like I was just there to be a tourist. I mean... I dunno, now's not the time to get into how inept that metaphor is.
But Methodists in Eden make damn good pie, and also passable bbq. We couldn't really complain.
But at some point, some insect has very itchily bitten my left breast four times, and it's just a bad situation inside my bra. We are not amused. We are unhappy. More bourbon would be employed to remedy the situation, but 1) we have no more bourbon, and 2) I have to work tomorrow and the day after and the day after and the day after and the day after.