A Night to Remember

We met up at Brothers downtown: a Bro bar filled with sweaty alumni from Michigan State and Wisconsin. It was a Big Ten title game, which meant it was way too packed and way too rowdy for any conversation.

But I was elated. New job, but couldn't tell the friends: they were all feeling like shit.

Where to start? Pete got dumped a month ago by his girl of six years. Steve was leaving for good to a new job in Hawaii. Apu's Ninja 250 got totalled. Munna? Munna could barely make out the words when he arrived. His girlfriend dumped him. Wait, let me put it this way: Munna believed that his long time girlfriend was cheating on him and harassed her so much she dumped him. Who could blame him, she was much more attractive than him, she was white and he was Bengali, she was the former fiance of his best friend who died of a brain tumor. He took her under his wing and took care of her and the child she had with the dead best friend. I would be paranoid too, but alas it drove Munna insane, and the truth eventually came out and things went downhill.

We couldn't stand Brothers so we tried to move somewhere that would lighten the already depressing mood. Drink was across the street so we thought a little loud club music and a little conversation with the hoteling tourists might do us some good. The joint was aweful. 40 year old cougars mixed with Ed Hardy bedazzled fake Guidos. There were a few birthday twenty-somethings, but no one really wanted to talk to them.

Munna hung on my shoulder. He explained what tipped him off, and it was kind of sad. He noticed scratch marks on her back, he followed her home and saw a suspicious car at her apartment. He didn't actually see the guy, but it was enough to finally get her to admit that she was seeing someone else. It drove him crazy, he had a master degree and an IT background but a few weeks of stalking her and missing work he was quickly fired from his well-paid job. I got annoyed, there was no talking him to shut up and have a good time.

Finally we tried taking him to a strip club. By that time the libations had set into me quite fully and I didn't quite know where I was. After paying the cover I walked over to the bar and asked for a drink. "Uh we don't serve drinks here, this is a strip club." Fuck me. "Hey there." I turned around to see one of the employees looking into at me. "Hey do you want to let me know when you want a private dance?" Sure. "Hey you're really cute. My name is Katie" I mustve been way too drunk, cause I actually thought she was sincere.

I decided to be a man and let Munna take the first dance. In retrospect that STILL did not shut him up. Seriously, no failed relationship should take this much grief, right?? He thought we were being followed, he swore he recognized the white Caddy outside the club. She was out to get him. A posse was formed to take him out. This was getting weird. Where was Katie?

After a few hours and near closing time, we left. I never got my dance with Kaite. The Nantucket Nectar sobered me up quick, we made our way to the door and out into the night.

And that's when things got significantly surreal...

Happy Year of New-ish-ness...

...to you.

I'm supposed to apologize right now, usually bloggers and self proclaimed journalists hold to the rule of updating early and updating often. With the temps reaching the negatives and the snow and ice piling up on my dead-end street there seems to be little excuse why my motivation to write has dwindled. Perhaps the mess that was the holidays was a deterrent: dad ended up in ICU, sibs fresh from east coast grad school complained of the cold, mother being mother...

After a short fiasco with the family pre-new years eve, I dragged my girlfriend over to St. Anthony Main's Picosa to see an old friend, Doug Little. In high school he used put together jazz groups together, talked about his travels in Cuba and welcomed in various musical aficionados into his lowly uptown crib. I was extremely jealous.

In true depressing Minnesota fashion, He never showed up...I ended up downing a shot Canadian Club and a Jameson and Coke while listening to a second rate latin combo. I spyed a rugged old soul in the corner with a funky looking fedora and plenty of hand bling. He talked with the band post set, I thought I recognized him.

more, later...

-JKG