Monday, March 15, 2010

The sheep are all dead.

Remember when you were in your early 20's and Friday night would roll around and you would make plans to go out that evening. And those plans were discussed once at around 5pm and then it was on. And everyone came and there were no issues. You just went out and had fun. Well those days are over. Now it is weeks of planning, negotiating nights to get together, cities to have drinks in, bars to visit and outfits to wear. And after everything is all set, then of course, it all goes bad. Suddenly it rains, Philadelphia is so far away and sheep have to be shot. We'll get back to that later.

So Jane convinced me we needed another night out together. Because I needed to watch her make out with another man? No, because it might be so much fun to go out together. But I am not going out with her alone again. That is just too terrifying. So I suggest we invite a couple other ladies to join in the fun. Jane picks Barbara. Ugh.

Barbara is 5' 10", thin and gorgeous. Yes, by all means let's invite her along. Barbara was always a popular girl in high school. The boys loved her and she knew how to play them. And if she was popular she was clearly not my friend. She was by no means, evil toward me, we just didn't run in the same social groups. Do you see a pattern here? Yes, I was not popular and now I seem to attract the former popular girls who have gone mad. But there is something about Barbara, something odd. It is as if her brain has a disconnect from the rest of her body. Ask her a question and ten minutes later you get an answer that has nothing to do with what you asked. Barbara is engaged...or not. Depends on when you ask her. She is adopting kids from Thailand, Philadelphia or China. Again, depends on when you ask her. And she is meeting us for Happy Hour in Old City Philadelphia. Joy!

So hours before we are supposed to meet Jane suddenly remembers she has kids and they come home from school at 4pm, so she will be late. Then Barbara leaves a cryptic message that two more sheep are dead and she has to wait for the vet and the hauler so she will be late too. At this point I am ready to stay home. But no dammit, I need to get out there and meet people, specifically men. So I pick Jane up after it takes her 30 minutes to park her car and we are off.

We get to the bar and pick a seat scoping out the men. They are all in their early 20's. Not good. Jane takes off her coat to reveal a low cut shiny blue tank top. Oh no. And the drinking begins. Then Barbara walks in. She is wearing a wrap around dress and high heel boots. And her botoxed forehead looks fantastic. I am a wee bit jealous. Barbara apologizes for being late but the sheep she is watching for her mom have started dropping dead. I ask how many are left and she looks at me for a beat before telling me, none now. She had them all shot. They were old. She says she would have shot them herself but she is not that good of a shot. Then Barbara gets up to go to the bathroom. I assume it is too wash the blood off her hands. Jane and I stare at each other. Shoot sheep???? What the what??? When Barbara returns Jane thinks it is a good time to whip out pics on her phone of the guys she made out with last time we were out. She has pics on her phone? Who are these people? I drink some more of my Mojito.

Eventually Barbara grows bored of us. We have heard how she broke it off with her fiance and is adopting kids and she has nothing more to say. She claims the shooting has exhausted her and leaves. Again, it is me and Jane and no men to speak of. We move to another locale.

At this new bar is a bald man eating dinner. Jane sits right next to him and starts talking to him. But she is clearly not drunk enough and realizes I am the single one and awkwardly forces me to trade seats with her so I am next to the bald man with no wedding ring. He claims he is from Spain ( I swear he sounds Russian) and that he works at Georgetown University and is in Philly for some conference. I am so cynical I am guessing he works at Starbucks in University City. But Jane keeps flirting and when I get up to go to the bathroom, she moves over. I need to go home. I need to find new friends. Bald Russian man pretending to be Spanish tells Jane she is so funny. He tells me I am nice. NICE. I am actually not nice. I am trying to be nice but inside I am screaming. I want to unleash my sarcasm but I have been told it is turn off. Plus I really don't have any interest in bald Russian man. I am getting depressed. I notice that Bald Russian man sees my ring finger. He asks about my husband. There is none I say. He asks about Jane's husband. Yes, there is one. Suddenly bald Russian man starts talking to me. Ha! Jane notices this too and put her coat on announcing it is time to go. I really need new friends.

We leave. I do not give bald Russian my number. I can barely understand him any way. But I realize I need new uglier friends, need a 12 step program for my sarcasm and probably need a low cut sexy tank top. And then perhaps I won't be 41 and single.

1 comment:

  1. hmm, I have to wonder, if you aren't interested in bald Russian men pretending to be Spanish, why waste restraint and hold back on the sarcasm that is reportedly a turnoff? May as well turn them off....

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