Crazy Pills on a Plane

Williams, Martinez and myself got snazzed up again and got a few martinis at the Top Of The Mark. We’ve all agreed it’s a nice place to begin an evening out, and I’m going to make a concerted effort to befriend the voluptuous hostess… not because she’s hot (bonus), but just so we get a table faster. Shucks, we didn’t end up at the table with memories, but we did get a window seat which was a nice change. There were fireworks again, and come to think of it, I’ve seen fireworks everytime I’ve been up there. Granted, this time was for Fleet Week, but I like to think someone out there celebrates everytime I really hit the town by blowing something up. It makes me feel fuzzy inside. I’ve been sticking to Junipero martinis, two olives, but I think I’ll start sampling their other concoctions; they all look so good. They boast over 100 martinis, so I really think I should get in with the hostess. First step: read her name tag!  Ha ha.

We headed to 111 Minna, a trendy club/bar/gallery a la Canvas (RIP) in the SoMa Academy of Art area. Mr. Martinez espied someone of interest, and me being the good friend I am took up Wingman duty by promptly starting an argument with him about whether or not Snakes on a Plane would ever actually be shown on a plane. Unable to come to an agreement I enquired the opinion of the aformentioned someone of interest. With a look of severe confusion, most likely due to the fact that the first words out of my mouth did not, through clever euphimism nor carelessly disguised double entendre’, pertain to her fake breasts or borderline whorishly plunging neckline, promptly scolded us for not talking about something more interesting. “My apologies, would you prefer we discuss your camel toe?” Apparently not, cause now I have a dry cleaning bill. Sorry, but if she can’t even crack a smile about the irony of our “argument” she’s too dense for even a one night stand: I tell her to rollover and hear a crash as she falls off the bed because Simon didn’t say stop… You can laugh, but that’s why I stopped dating Freshman.

So, even after the vodka red bull went from wet to sticky to stiff, and the performing artist inspired me to give oil paints a go, the night remained young until I was yet again reminded just how tenacious my past is. Even at a completely new scene it continues to hound me with the determination and steady patience of a homeless man who’s been promised change. I need to get out of this city pronto!

Ahh!Outside the club I ran into yet another person wearing that damned “upside down tree” shirt that I’ve been seeing everywhere. I don’t understand it. Half the population of California owns the friggin thing, yet whenever I bring it up, no one knows what I’m talking about. There! Right there! On the right! You see! It does exist! In three flavors no less, green brown and black. How has no one seen this shirt before?! I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!

Speaking of crazy, we had the pleasure of listening to what is sure to be one of this year’s best campaign speeches on our way home from 111 Minna.  A man with a shopping cart for a podium and duct tape for a tie layed out his plans to “nuke everyone for the greater good,” and that if he were elected there would be “pot in everyone’s suits!” Beat that platform Hilary!

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4 Comments on “Crazy Pills on a Plane”

  1. Peter Says:

    It would appear that the t-shirt has migrated all the way east to NYC. Last spotted on a too cool to be trendy hipster via Brooklyn.

  2. Maritess Says:

    OMG… I have that shirt. haha don’t hate me! It was supposed to be my brother’s but its too small on him so I use it. Please don’t hate me!

  3. danwalsh Says:

    I guess Maritess is too-cool-to-be-trendy too. Lol I like that phrase. Don’t worry Meety, I don’t hate you. But you have to do one thing for me… BURN IT! BURN IT NOW!

  4. rei Says:

    not an upside down tree,
    i see it as the roots of the tree.


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