ooooooooooooooh ahhhhhhhh!

I just died in your arms tonight.

Friday, as I told you, I was up at the crack of dawn in Greenland so I could pick up a lot more overtime and help out my buddy who didn't really need or want to work a double. Working that long a day after a long workweek, you can imagine I was tired. I got home with the intention of taking a nap then going to my friend A's house for board game night and avoiding crowds.

My nap failed, as I half expected it to do. I'm not a good napper. I just can't do it, even when I was a kid, I wasn't that good at it. I remember spending nap time in kindergarten looking around at my sleeping classmates. My teacher was afraid that I was nonconformist. Turns out she was right. Having failed in my endeavor to rest up, I decided instead to go have drinks at Resi's, where I knew I could have strong beer, friends, and relatively few St. Pat's celebrators. I parked my kiester at a stool and saw R come down "Aventinus?"

"Why yes." I replied as I stood up to give him a hug over the bar. R is a good man, large and friendly. I first met him back when he worked at the Great Beer Palace, but we didn't become friends until he started working at Resi's. The Palace, sadly, closed. We chatted about basketball, women, drinking, and his former co-worker, my friend S. Turns out S got a job up the street at Laschet's, one of the other German places in my neighborhood. After enough Aventinus for me to want to go home, I walked out the door in search of my friend, having heard that he was working that night. I walked in, and instantly remembered why I prefer Resi's. This place is too bright, and the food isn't nearly as good. Not to mention that whoever designed it must have been on some serious drugs, as there is no real rhyme or reason to it.

Behind the bar, there was a woman I recognized, but no S. I ordered a quarter Steigl (ordering beers in quarters is the norm in this bar, and I recognize why- their beer gets warm quicker than in most bars. Someone should look into that.) I walked to the end of the bar so I could scope out the place and see if I knew anyone else. Clomping up the stairs was S, all dressed up in black pants and a white shirt. I don't like bars where they make you wear fancy clothes to bartend- bartending is a messy job. He was carrying bottles of vodka, so I let him put them down before shaking his hand. "I'll give you $5 if you bartend with your pants down," I greeted him. He declined to do so, so I increased the tip to $20. He still refused, based on the fact that he wanted to keep this job. Apparently, that shit don't fly over at Laschet's.

I finished my beer with S's roommate K, and headed home. My exhaustion was finally shutting me down. I walked home, pondering if I should stop in for another drink somewhere. I headed home. I had just realized, after 5 drinks, that I hadn't eaten since lunch. I got home, made some food and poured a glass of wine. I put in a DVD, and the next thing I knew, it was midnight. I had fallen asleep, fortunately after I had finished eating. I went to bed and the last thing I remember was my cat jumping up on the bed and cuddling up to me.

Here's the shitty part of all this: I don't sleep much, and rarely, if ever, will I sleep more than 6 or 7 hours in a row. At 4:37, I opened my eyes and took a gander at my clock (I have a clock with extra-large numbers on it, so I can see it without my glasses) and thought hm. This kinda sucks. I should sleep later. I tried everything, and finally gave up at 5. I was awake, and there was no going back.

The problem then became, what do I do with my time? It is too cold out to go bike riding, especially at 5 am in March, so that's out. I can't ride my trainer, because that's too loud, and despite my half of the apartment building being uninhabited, save for myself and my roommate, it's still cruel to her to do that. I snuck into the dining room/office and got on my computer. If I were quiet enough, I could play a game or two until I could safely and considerately make noise. I made up a grocery list, worked on some bike ride stuff, and played CIV4 for a few hours, until I got bored and fed up and frustrated. I poked around at some pub quiz research, I tried to get interested in my local election, which is today, but decided I had a hard time liking any of the candidates. I decided to try to watch TV, and that didn't work.

I was bored, terribly bored. It was almost the afternoon, and I had no motivation to clean my desperately messy apartment, no motivation to go grocery shopping, and less energy than I expected. I finally, after quite a bit of procrastination, went to the grocery store. I knew I had a busy evening planned, and laundry to do, so it was the lesser of two evils- laundry could wait for the morning. After spending almost the entire day avoiding any and all of my responsibilities- save for moving my mountain bike to the basement of our building, I had accomplished very little. I was somehow proud of that.

Finally, my dinner plans with my friend A, which were planted in our heads some 2 1/2 weeks ago, for going for margaritas and Mexican food, were finally coming to be. I was very excited, as she's been dating a wonderful new man for a few months, and we haven't been able to hang out since her birthday party. When she picked me up, I noticed something was sitting in her back seat- and I tried to ignore it. We drove off in search of the appropriate place, and we talked.

"Did you see what's in the back?"

"I sure did. I was going to comment, but I thought I'd let you open up that part of the conversation."

"Fair enough."

"So, I take it, things are that serious, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Good for you honey. I'm very happy. He's a good man and I like him a lot."

I'm avoiding telling you what's in the back, and I'm not mentioning that I really, really do like her new beau. Quite the guy, and he and I have a lot in common. She's done very well for herself, and I'm glad she's so happy. In the back seat, by the way, is a child's carseat. Her new beau is divorcing and has a toddler.

We, after trying 3 other places, finally find a place that has a wait less than an hour. We parked ourselves at the bar next to some particularly drunk college-age kids, one of which actually fell down whilst drinking. This was funny, but only because she managed to not spill on either of us. We caught up- and then got into the serious stuff. She thinks my life needs a little more direction (and she's right), she wanted to know what happened with this woman and with that woman. She wants me to settle down, too, but in a good way. She promises to find someone I'll like, but won't set me up "with any of [my] crazy-ass friends." We've been down that path a couple times before- with mixed results.

This conversation, mixed with the absolutely outstanding margaritas, remind me that I've been avoiding a lot of the dating I could easily be doing. In vino veritas and all that. I decide that at the party we're going to after dinner, I will get my flirt on, and that my night will not end without digits.

We head to the party, at a friend's apartment. They're both moving in with their boyfriend or fiance, so they are saying a proper farewell to a very, very cool place. I scoped the party- lots and lots of very attractive people having smart conversations, basically, my ideal environment. After my preliminary scan, I do my deeper check (read: looking for rings) and quickly discover that other than the 3 women I already know, two of which are already taken, every woman at the party has either a husband or fiance. I chat around to confirm my observations, and I was rather disappointed.

Fortunately for me, I had one more party on my dance card, and that was most fortunately at a bar I knew there would be singles at and karaoke. I walked in, and was greeted by two friends, including the birthday girl, who I bought a shot for. Before I even ordered the shot, the bartender had already poured me a Guinness. I like that in a bartender. I drank my toast, drank another shot with the bartender, and put in my songs. I was feeling a little creative, and put in a standard (Every Rose), a DYC song (myself and two friends form this "band" and do songs together at least 3 times a night, as the C in the equation is the KJ), and Draggin' the Line.

Every Rose is called first, so I dazzle the crowd with my version. I have a talk with the birthday girl, and my eyes look over her shoulder at one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. Tall, attractive, and blonde. Wait a second, I think to myself- when was the last time I even went on a date with a blonde woman? I do a self-audit of my dating life. In my nearly two decades of dating and relationships, I have dated a grand total of two blondes. The first was the first girl I ever used the L word with, back in 1989. The second, a set-up by a friend with her roommate- a short-lived generally bad relationship when I was 22. My friend notices my attention sway and tells me she knows the girl and that she is single.

This is very good news to me. The bad news for me, as it were, was that my friend C had been flirting with her all night, and already gotten her phone number. While I sometimes fail in my convictions to observe the single code, I was determined to do right by my friend. After all, he was kind enough to do the same for me a year earlier, so I was returning the favor. Besides, the night was young, and the crowd was full of beautiful women.

DYC was called up, and due to some inspiration, we decided not to do Burning Down the House, which we have almost always screwed up. We instead did that horrible Tubthumping song about the whiskey drink, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Ok, let me level with you. I had the idea, because I wanted to do the Homer Simpson version of the song:

I take a whiskey drink
I take a chocolate drink
And when I take a leak
I use the kitchen sink

Personally, one of my favorite Simpsons moment, sadly only a few folks got it. I also wound up doing the "oh Danny boy" part of the song in falsetto. It was funny, and we had a good time being dorks.

After we finished, a woman approached me. "I liked your Homer Simpson. That was funny."

"Thanks."

"You did an amazing falsetto, too."

"Thanks again!" I slyly checked, as is my habit, for a tell-tale ring.

Thunderbirds, my friends, were go.

We chatted about singing. She mentioned that she enjoyed Every Rose earlier. I told her she should hear me do Johnny Cash. She melted a little. I told her I would try to get one in before the close of the evening's karaoke. I walked, cash in hand to my friend, the KJ.

"What'll it take for me to finish with a Cash song. You pick it."

"I've only got two left, and I've already got you slated for Draggin'."

I went back to her, told her about the time constraints and that if she was interested, I knew a couple other places to do karaoke during the week, if she wanted to hang out. She said she couldn't, but she was going to be back at the same bar next Saturday. "So Dutch, can I get your number?"

I should mention that I very rarely use my real name, especially when I'm in a place that only takes a first name. Dave is just too commonplace. The result of which is that I have so many nicknames in the different circles I travel, I have to actually remember more names. I enjoy the challenge, though, and within this circle of friends, I am called Dutch, after my lovely bowling shirt I picked up in Toronto. A shirt, that I just happened to be wearing that night.

"Last up tonight, thanks to everyone who came out, let me bring up Kiss Me I'm Dutch!"

I got up to the stage, still hoping that he'd switch out Draggin' for Cash, but when I heard the first few bass notes of Draggin' the Line, I knew I had to finish with it. "You sang that wonderfully" she said as I returned to the table. I offered to buy her a drink, so we moved to the bar. We drank. I paid my tab. I looked around, and the blonde had left, but without my friend C. He walked up to me, "I'm starving, are you hungry?"

"Yeah. Wanna get some tacos?" I heard myself say it, even though I had eaten some steak fajitas just a few hours earlier. Red II, as she will be known as for the time being, wasn't up for tacos. Suddenly I found myself less likely to want to go, largely because I made the horrible realization that I had been awake for 22 hours. Suddenly it was very much time for bed. We all parted ways, and I got home later, much, much later than anticipated.

Much to my surprise, I woke up Sunday morning with a bang, and about 3 hours before I should have. Pissed at myself for staying out so late, I started doing laundry and wishing I had been a whole lot nicer to my body the night before. It was time for some horizontal couch action. I drifted in and out of watching the talk news shows, wishing I was still sleeping, and doing laundry. Eventually, I fed myself and felt better. I managed to get new CD rom's for my wonderful new burner, so friends beware, I will be sending you music soon.

You have been warned.