Okay here’s the fun stuff.
Now remember I’m typing with a fuck-off bandaged hand, been at various hospitals all day (again) and am now under the influence of vicodin. Call me a Doctor. No. Call me a Doctor House. –rim shot-
While at lovely sparks Hospital I received a fab visit from Leslie and her new baby Jonah. Being the good friend that she is the wicked witch smuggled in an In and Out burger, fries and shakes for herself, cate and me. Yum!
The Bitch Brit nurse was not amused “There’s a sign that specifically says NO FOOD OR DRINK”
In her best obsequious voice Les says “I am sooooo sorry. I didn’t see it”. bwa. Damn I missed Les.
A nice tie-in is Friday night’s festivities… once again NO DRINK was posted in my life. This time I waltzed around the sign and heeded the verbiage. Luckily TK is teaching me to dance.
We decided to go out on the town for the first time in over a month. Started the day at Electronic Espresso to see the well known libertine, bon vivant and man about town EJ Maldonado. Very cool. Hung out with EJ, Fran, Josh and even Wes and Evan who played with EJ in ordinary.
|We were treated to the sights and sounds of stupefied Reno wandering about during the wine walk. Okay the Wino Walk. Big fun.|
Then it was on to Second Street Saloon although it was still daylight. A seat at the bar availed us of the perfect location to people-watch the wine-walkers (or was that wine-staggerers) on their mission, and other Reno degenerates as well.
After an hour of so of this, and more conversation with Wes and Evan who had also taken refuge at Second Street, we made our way to Shooters.
TK claimed it was not only a fab dive but is famous for the barmaid who puts on a hula hoop and does her thing all the way up and down the length of the bar top.
It was my lucky night because that gal was on. Utterly hysterical.
You haven’t lived until you’ve checked out a drunken waitress (who looked about 50) hula-hooping and simultaneously chugging a shot while stunned patrons hurriedly removed their drinks from the bar to narrowly avoid a tragic spilling accident.
At 6:00 p.m. I stepped outside to call my daughter who was still incarcerated in The Home. We had a wonderful chat and she seemed to be in good spirits. Of course everybody in Shooters was in good spirits as well but that was due their all ordering top shelf liquor.
Hell, the barmaid even poured me a scotch. Heh.
I called ~R to invite her down and check out the bizarreness of the night. She was feeling like hell having done a night at the emergency room the evening before.
Mentioned the glass of scotch at my seat and was lambasted, cajoled, entreated and lectured. Now who else besides a sober yet stoned friend would bother to freak out over the potential of an inebriated Rachael?
No worries. I did not have a Scotch although I did have a grin the next morning over the incident.
Before leaving shooters we endured at least an hour and a half of bad rap, tired metal and other crap music. So TK and I loaded up the juke box with ten dollars worth of tunes including an obscure Dire Straits piece, an even more obscure Ben Folds song and finally Dancing Queen by Abba. We fled the place before the carnage could begin.
It was time for a jaunt to the Little Nugget where we split an Awful-Awful. Oh the bliss. The grease. The artery-clogging goodness carefully blended with lettuce and tomato. We ran into a couple of TK’s friends. This was after running into a few other people at Shooters who asked when TK was playing sax again. Never mentioned that he is a fine Alto player did I?
Before turning heading to Shooters we did a bit of shopping. If you take a good look at the watch on my wrist in today’s earlier blog you can see what I received. If you can make out which watch it is you’re a refined and erudite kinda person. Not to mention an 80’s aficionado. TK you’re a doll and a bad influence. What’s not to love in such a person.
After the Awful-Awful we walked back to Second Street. What the hell were the streets doing packed with people on such a bitterly cold night?! Utter weirdness. Of course it IS Reno.
We were stopped by various people on the street for either change, compliments on our appearance, or recognition. Very funny.
At Second Street we slipped into the obese crowd. WTF is with that place? I’m telling you that the security people only let in people who are absolutely goddamned huge. Of course it does make one feel svelte and hip.
We sat down and were immediately accosted by two drunken gals in their 20’s. One insisted that TK was Billy Idol. Heh.
We listened to 20 different women do cretinous Stevie Nicks songs. Night of a Thousand Stevies. Gag me.This was interspersed with the requisite number of sheer morons in cowboy hats attempting to re-create Tim McGraw. It was fun. Anyway, pretty soon the ‘I know you’re Billy Idol’ chickie realized that she wasn’t making any progress hitting on Terry (that would be formal nomenclature for TK) so she started on me. I’m pulled on to the dance floor and pretty much dry humped much to the amusement of myself and TK.
Finally extricated myself from her grip and went back to the table.
“You know babe this is the second time we’ve been out and a woman has hit on BOTH of us. What in god’s name is that all about?” I say.
A few minutes go by, I visit the ladies room and on the way back some guy places his arm around me and gives me a hug and begins to whisper in my ear. He asks me to dance and I grin over at TK. He cracks up and then glares at the guy.
Now TK dresses all in black, is fairly tall and can look imposing with those blue eyes.
The dude drops his arm and looks at TK and then at me.
“I think your boyfriend wants to kill me” he says.
“Oh don’t worry!” say I. “He’s not my boyfriend but he DOES want to kill you.”
This poor guy then spent at least 30 minutes groveling and hugging TK, despite TK’s explaining that he had no control over my actions, we had no commitment, and if I wanted to dance with him it was my choice. Said guy didn’t believe it and stayed pretty clear of me after that.
Actually got up and sang Knock on Wood. Old school style I might add. Figured that no one else EVER picked that tune. Was told I sounded on the money but being self-effacing who the hell knows. It was a blast though.
We took a cab back somewhere around 3:00 am.
It was the best time I’d had in a long time. The past two weeks have been hell and I so needed to get out and cut loose.
So there you have it. The pearl among the swine of days.
I worried some people, surprised a few more, and met new ones.
Now it’s back to my own little piece of the real Reno. I can only be a hottie on the rare occasion trust me. Bummer isn’t it?
Cate’s in the shower and goes back to school tomorrow. I go back to the doc for the hand again in 48 hours. The Behavioral Contract with the Demon seed is signed. All is perfectly not right with the world.
I’ll spend tomorrow catching up on some of my favorite blogs and placing compresses on my slashed-up discolored finger. Perhaps a brisk stroll along the river walk if the weather is good.
|Not a bad for a 39 year old babe
Yours in angst-ridden teens and vicodin,