Thursday, March 30, 2006

I had a post. I actually wrote two but I was probably only going to post one but anyway I forgot to email them to myself so I don't have access to them so I'll post something different.

I was having lunch is an open public space and I noticed an unattended duffle bag. The bag was left on a concrete bench next to a Federal building. I was going to tell someone I know in security about it but I figured someone had just forgotten it. I didn't want to be the one to tell my friend about an unattended bag and have him fill out all this paper work if someone just forgot their gym bag. So, my plan was to wait until I had to go back from lunch and hope that the person that left the bag would realize it and come back.

I ate lunch and still had forty five minutes left so I started reading my book. It's a good book so far but in one scene the author states that the guy twisted off the cap of a Heineken and you don't have to be a booze bag like myself to know that Heinekens don't have twist off tops. Anyway, while reading the authorities came by with a bomb sniffing dog and the dog couldn't have cared less about the bag.

And some attractive lady, that looked a little uptight, gave me a dismissive look for taking a photo of a broken concrete bench. I would have said something to her but I was hoping to keep my options open.

So, I was at the bar with a friend, the same friend that will meet me at the same bar the next day which is Friday. He tells me that he would like to know what the lunch specials are because if the specials are grand he will have lunch elsewhere and meet up for beers later.

I tell him that specials are set the day of and that the bartenders wouldn't know what the specials are but that if he were to ask that I bet they would be pissed off. He agreed with my assessment so he didn't ask but it got me to thinking that it would be funny to ask. What type of idiot asks what the next day's specials are?

I asked. I said I needed to plan my day around the specials. I, of course, was berated and told that if I wanted to know then I would have to come in tomorrow. I found the reaction kind of funny. I got the reaction I thought I would get but then a little later after my friend left the bartender came over to me and told me, very sweetly, that she would know the specials at eleven o'clock in the morning and that I could call. I was actually a little touched that she told me, so I had to come clean.

I leaned a little towards her and said "Don't bring it up but Paul is the one that wanted to know the specials. I was just being a goofball and asked. I know you don't know until that day of."

"He's going to get it tomorrow."

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

The file naming system is stupid. I didn't call it stupid. I called it crazy. I said it hurt my eyes. I said it's not intuitive.

I want to take a few days off but I'm afraid that being away from work isn't going to fix my funk. Everywhere I go, there I am.


So I was in this email conversation with a former intern. Among other things she was letting me know that she realized that she knew another intern that knew me and that second intern had said some nice things about me.

I replied that a bunch of people say nice things about me and for proof all she would have to do is walk into *my favorite bar* and mention my name.

She replied: "I'm glad to know that a bunch of rum-mies and wine-os say nice things about you"

I thought it was funny.


He said I was passive aggressive. I disagreed and then let the air out of one of his tires.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

room twelve

We were sitting in room number twelve of the emergency room. Room number twelve has just a bed and a chair in it. It's the psych room. She had some chest pains and room twelve was the only available but I teased her about it anyway. I was there just to pick her up but she hadn't been discharged by the hospital.

We kept the door closed as we talked and waited. With the door closed the hospital staff would always knock before they entered. I don't know why but I never said come in or anything; I just sat quite just like she did after all it was her room I figured it wasn't my place to say anything, I was following her lead.

After her negative test results came back she was free to go. I sat as she got dressed.

"Don't look" she said as she slipped out of the gown after she had turned away from me.

I said "Alright" as I lowered my eyes to the floor and then raised them and watched her clasped her bar in front of her. She has a lovely back. I lowered my eyes before she had spun the bra around.

She turned to face me and said "This is my best bra. You can look now. It lifts and separates." She gave a slight demonstration and told me she got it from Victoria's Secret before she pulled her white sweater over her head.

Outside the hospital, at the entrance to the train station, she told me where she parked and that I should just catch the subway, and that she didn't need me to walk her to her car which was parked a block away.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes. I'll be okay."

I wasn't pleased with her answer. I wanted to drive her to her house and I would worry about getting to my house from there but she didn't want me to. I looked her in the eye so she would see my concern.

"I'll be okay. Really" she said which still didn't please me but I knew the discussion was over.

She called me later. She was at home, I was at the second job. She got home safely.

one word

the one word for today was rainy

I only ever done that little writing exercise once and even that time, I'm pretty sure I went over the sixty second time limit. I'll see what the word of the day is often and think about how I would use the word. I usually don't think up a little story or even a complete sentence but then the directions are "Don't think just write" (I don't write either) but, always, only just a definition comes to mind or rather just a synonym and it's usually not the most common use of the word or it's used in not the most popular way or at least not the most popular, in my opinion. Mostly, it's just a feeling I get.

I could write the feeling but then I would have to think about it and getting the feeling down takes more than a minute. I would arrange a little word town, one building at a time around that feeling until I was satisfied that the name on the town limit sign would match what was witnesses around that last bend in the road.

I'm not good at writing exercises. I think writing is an art and it doesn't make a good fit when you have to shoehorn it into some place.

I don't think writing is best described as right or wrong but I do think it can be described as good or bad. Writing may be technically incorrect but if the words express a thing in such a way so that the reader can feel it, then I think syntax, grammar and punctuation are all superfluous. Sometimes those things can get in the way.

I don't think what I do is art. But I also realize that I am so used to my own voice that it has left me jaded towards it. Maybe if I were new to me, I would like me better.

Rainy - I thought about someone sad, a rainy day even though the sun shone bright.
I think some people do certain activities so they don't have to listen to themselves. iPods, books, TV's, sports, all can drown out the internal dialog. There are some instances when I don't want to hear what my internal dialog says and often I will offer rebuttals to the arguments that I hear within but if I don't give quality time to what that inside voice has to say, I feel I'm neglecting something important. I do a lot of catching up with myself while walking to and fro from work.

I've adjusted my schedule to avoid neighbors that traverse the same route as to the train station, just so I can have a little me time. I don't mean to be rude; it's just that I can do without the chatter.

Monday, March 27, 2006

What do I try to hide?

My doubt

My lack of empathy

My worry

My affection


She came up to my office and handed me my check and asked about websites. I pulled up several pages and ran a few searches.

"You're quick"

I just smiled because I didn't think saying 'You should see me looking up porn' was a proper response.


I was struggling to stay focused on the job at hand. The job wasn't important or pressing but I was pretty certain that if I lost focus, I will not be gaining it back. My desk phone rang, I looked to see which line was lit up even though I already knew because the lines ring differently.

My direct line was the one that rang but it only rang once, then moments later my cell phone rang. Lady G was on the other end.

"Are you in the field?"


"Good. I'll be at the trolley station in fifteen to twenty minutes. Can you meet me there?"


"And can you bring me a small French Vanilla with three sugars?"

"I will do that"

The line went silent after that and within fifteen minute I was standing was a small coffee of the platform where the middle of the two car light rail train would stop. I stood in the middle because I didn't know which car she would be driving. A few minutes later I saw her driving the front trolley. As she was driving past, she opened the window and said you were supposed to meet me on the other side.

"What did she just tell me?" someone waiting for the trolley asked.

"She said you were supposed to meet her on the other side." someone else waiting for the trolley answered.

There was a little bit more of the exchange between the two perplexed people, who then seemed to be a little bit irritated so I told them that the message they heard was directed at me.

I used the last door to enter the train and then walked up the middle to the front and stood in the stairwell.

"What other side?"

"Over there" she pointed to the inbound platform. Fortunately, the station was a turnaround station so I caught her after she turned around.

"Nice coat" she said referring to the black suede jacket I was wearing which she gave to me a couple years ago.

"Thanks, I do have some nice things."

"I think it's time for a new one. Your present's there." She pointed between the coin box and the front panel of the trolley to a large Old Navy bag.

"Oh." I grabbed the bag while trying to balance in the stairwell having let go of the railing. She drives the trains a little bit fast. I took out the black wool early Spring jacket. "Nice." I then folded back the sleeves flat and rolled the jacket loosely.

"I can't believe you just did that."

"Did what?"

"Just rolled it up like that" and she reached over and pulled it back from the bag as I wondered how much attention one needs to pay when driving a trolley.

"What?! I rolled it loosely."

"No you didn't." She then folded it much like you would find it folded at the retail store and put it back in the bag.

I watched us approach the next station as she finished packing my gift to her liking. She then looked up did some trolley stuff and brought the train to a gentle stop.
"I'm never going to remember who to fold that" I lied. It wasn't that I wouldn't remember, it's just that I really didn't care. I think you get less wrinkles with a roll than you do with a fold but she really knows more about that stuff than I do.

"Were you busy?"

"No. Well, yeah but it wasn't anything that I couldn't stop."

I like watching up front as the trolley travels underground. I think it's quite a view, the lights of the train illuminating the rails, the flutter effect of the fluorescent lights which keep the same beat as the old wooden ties as they are passed by. It reminds me of some cheap special effect used to pretend time travel.

We might have traveled through time a little because before I knew it I was six stops from work. I headed back at the next stop and the trip back seemed to take twice as long.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

I sometimes forget that my eyes have power but I have for so many years tried to hide them that I do it without knowing it. There are some people who have never seen me without a hat.

Friday, I left my hat at work; I did it on purpose. I was headed to the bar and I was hoping to last until her seven o'clock shift, which would be four hours from when I left for a late lunch from work.

The power my eyes have are the same power my father's light colored eyes had, you could tell when he was joking, when he was serious, when he loved and when he hated by looking him the eyes. He could control his facial expressions and his voice so sometimes you would have doubts about his true feelings but a look in his eyes though, and you would know the truth. The trouble with looking him in the eyes though is that sometimes it took a bit of a moment to see to the bottom and in that bit of pause he could then see straight down to your soul. You would find out what he was thinking at that moment but he would seem to see all your thoughts for all your life up until that time. I only have a little bit of that second part.

I sometimes wonder if my life would be different if I had brown eyes. Would I have a better chance of hiding my emotions without light colored eyes? Would I be less honest?

The bartenders all do the same thing when they enter the building. They quickly make their way to the safety behind the bar, and once behind the bar they start talking to the nearest bartender and are soon joined by the rest of the help as they update each other on what's going on. It sometimes takes awhile for everyone to catch up to date; drink orders wait.

When she started asking what people wanted is when she noticed me. She came out from behind the bar and gave me a hug.

"I didn't see you sitting there. You're not wearing a hat. I can see your eyes. You have beautiful eyes."

"You do Timmy. You do have beautiful eyes" a waitress added before I could reply.

"Yeah, that's what Paul always tells me" I said as I pointed to my friend to my left which I think made him a little uneasy, that homophobe.

"This is going to cause me trouble" I overheard her say before I looked in her direction. She was looking down, assessing coverage issues. She looked up at me with a look of concern and then assigned me to nipple patrol.

Later when there was a lull, she stood in front of me and my friend and blew a rather large bubble with the green apple bubble gum she was chewing. We stopped our talking while she was blowing.

"I'm impressed with your blowing abilities" I told her with an approving nod.

She replied "And you ain't see nothing yet, sweetie" before she turned to share my wit with another bartender.

My friend leaned over to me and said "I've told you before but I think she would make a lovely Mrs. Catfish."


Thursday, March 23, 2006

yeah, thanks, for a moment there I was really worried

sometimes when I say "Oh, sorry" what I really mean is "What?! You've got to be freak'n kidding me. I can't believe that you are bothering me with this. Why don't you grow up and get real?"

I love it when their response is "Oh, don't worry, it's okay"
She slowly blinked as she slowly turned back around to face me. I think "Slow equals sexy," very rarely does a sexy woman move quickly. She hadn't stopped talking to me but something had caught her attention on the other side of the window, so she turned to look and then looked back all before her sentence ended. She was nursing a Gin & Ginger. I had my usually Bud Light in front of me.

Her slow blink reminded me of how she'll sometimes close her eyes while brushing her teeth. I always wonder what she's thinking when she does that; it always seems to be something pleasant, something far away but yet right there, right behind her eyelids. I always want to ask her what it is that is meandering through her mind but I never do. I don't know if I'm supposed to know if she closes her eyes or not, I worry if I ask, then she might stop closing her eyes. I worry her pleasant thoughts might stop or at least go unseen. I smiled as I thought about how much I love her.

"What?" she asked. I had forgotten she was looking at me.

"What what?"

"What's with the smile?"

"I smiled?"

"Yeah, just now."


And then we said nothing because I worried if I told her, than her pleasant thoughts might stop or at least go unseen.
When I got there the bar was crowded, there was only one seat that looked available, I wasn't certain because to the left was a guy in his late thirties and he was talking to a girl in her early twenties to the right, so I inquired about it.

"Is anybody sitting here?"

"No" is what the guy said.

"Is it alright if I sit here?"

There was a slight pause. The guy didn't want me sitting there and when I looked to the girl I couldn’t identify her look. My question was just me being polite, I didn't really need a verbal reply so I started to pull the chair out.

"You sit here. I want to talk to you" the guy said to the girl. The girl looked to me and I gave my 'I really don't give a care where I sit' look. She on the other hand looked like she didn't want to more over a seat but she did. The guy started to talk to her and started moving physically closer to her. He thought he had a chance.

When the guy went to the men's room I leaned slightly towards her and said "I'm sorry I didn't sit between you two."

She laughed and said "That's all right. I'm a cocktail waitress. I can handle him."

A couple beers later, he was all up in her personal business and by now she was facing more towards me than him. She was at this bar because she was on break from the bar that she works at, I figured she had enough. When the guy took a breathe, I said something.

"Hey, what's that Wifi connection you have up there like? Is it free? I know once you sign on you have to enter your email address but after that is there something else?"

"I really don't know. I never use it" and then she touched my arm and said "Thank you."

"I'm glad you understand" I said because I really didn't give a care about the Wifi but then I was a little curious about it.

I smiled and said "This question's for real. Do you get a lot of people in there with computers?"

"I don't see them if we do."

When the guy left for a cigarette, she said we should change our seats.

"Well, I do usually sit down there anyway." I said while pointing.

"Let's move, but let me sit at the end."

After we moved the bartender stopped serving the smoker alcohol and he wasn't interested in any more than half a glass of water so he left.

"I hope he doesn't find me up the street" she said.

"Yeah, me neither."

Before she left she told of her work schedule and that she would most likely be back. I didn't bother telling her that most likely she wouldn't beat me in.
Part of my day job involves documenting certain signs that are installed on the city streets. Some times, on narrow streets, it's better to walk than to drive around but walking around gives people more of an opportunity to ask questions. I usually will listen to my iPod while walking around because it cuts down on some of the questions. I was walking around the other day in my city's little Italy section. The residents there don't like outsiders. An outsider is anyone that wasn't birthed on a checkerboard tableclothed kitchen table in some small apartment over some Italian restaurant within the confines of their tiny neighborhood.

I was unbothered for most of the day which was good because I wasn't in a happy mood. I was unbothered until the last street when I heard someone calling to somebody who could only be me.

"Hey! Buddy, can I help you?"

I finished what I was writing before I turned around to look to see some local construction working hanging out a second story window. I pretended to ponder his question and then said "Nope" and started to write some more, which I knew would irritate they guy but I don't like being hollered at from any window anywhere for most any reason.

"Buddy, what do you need?" I heard as I did my best to suppress a mostly evil grin.

"Nothing. I'm all set but thanks." I answered not looking up from my clipboard.

"Then y's were u's look'n at my van?"

"I's wasn't look'n at your van" I wanted to say 'u's van' instead of 'your van' but I was certain I would have been greeted with a crowbar or some other blunt instrument soon there after, I was pushing it as was.

After that I just continued down the street, fortunately what I was going caused me to have to look back down the street every once and awhile which allowed me to make certain that someone wasn't headed towards me from behind to continue some discussion.

I was half disappointed that the discussion didn't go any further. I too often greet stupid tough guys by being a smart-mouthed asshole and I really should know better than that.
It's a dive bar. When I'm there, some of what happens is we talk about who has been thrown out. I'll tell them what I've heard and they will tell me what they have heard. I'm a grape on the grapevine.

Lately, there are some patrons have been asking those employed at the bar for money. One guy, after sitting at the bar for a few paying as he went, asked the bartender if he could borrow ten bucks, she gave him the sawbuck thinking the guy would leave. The guy didn't leave, he stays for two more beers and then he tipped her one of her own dollars. Another guy asked a manager if he could borrow forty bucks, at the time the guy was close to staggering drunk; the manger helped him out, out of the bar that is. The guy sneaked back in when the manager was occupied with something else and then he asked a bartender for twenty bucks.

When I was told about the second guy by the bartender involved, told me she used my name while she was explaining to the guy why he shouldn't be asking for money.

"Listen guy. You know Timmy. Well, Timmy is here all the time, we all like Timmy and he would never ask for money. He would rather walk home to Dorchester before he would ask anybody for money and he is the only one in this whole freaking bar who I wouldn't mind giving money to."

I've been going to this bar for awhile, I'm there more often than I'm not, which doesn't reflect too well on me but some times I am just drinking sodas and getting lunch. The point is I'm there frequently, I'm liked and I try to make myself welcomed. Tending bar or tables can be trying. I do my best to be an easy customer and I think I leave a better than average tip. It would never occur to me to ask anyone there for money. First, I would be too embarrassed. Second, I think asking for money goes beyond the bartender / patron relationship.

I have actually, kind of, walked home for this Downtown bar before but it wasn't because I didn't have any money. It was more of a situation of not feeling too comfortable with all the alcohol that I had consumed, from Downtown to my house there are seven train stops on this particular night I only used one. It is a four and a quarter mile walk from the bar to my front door, the one train stop cut a mile off of that trip.

She ended up giving the guy twenty bucks, mainly just to get rid of him.

"He tried to come around the bar and he's saying "I know I'm too old for you, so it's nothing like that, it's just that I like you..." and then he goes on and says "..not to creep you out or anything--""

"Too late" I interjected.

The guy we were talking about then came in not three minutes later, she set him up with a beer before he had a chance to speak, her hope was that he would just sit quietly. They spoke a little and I over heard him ask when her shift was over. He mentioned a time that wasn't correct but she told him that it was.

"Yeah right, guy. I'm going to tell you when I'm leaving work" she said after the guy left. "I thought he was going to give me my twenty back but he just wanted to know what time I was leaving...He didn't even pay for that beer."

I had things to do, so I had to leave. I asked for my check. She handed me a bill which only had a charge for a food item on it even though I had consumed more than two beverages. There are often times when I don't get charged for beverages, I rarely will get charged for soft drinks but in this instance I wasn't drinking soft drinks.

"Timmy, you're going to leave me for when that guy comes back?"

"I's gots to go" I said with a shrug. I really did have things to do. A manger was due to be on the clock before that guy was set to return, so I wasn't too worried about it. I'm certain I'll hear the story later.

"Hey, thanks" I added with a nod towards the bill. I left the amount that it should have been plus a tip.

I'm pretty sure some of the other regulars hate me but screw them.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

every time I'm asked if I want a shot I take it as a dare and I'll do a shot

I think I do too many shots

I think I take too many dares
So, the guitar started in New Jersey and is now in Rhode Island. I'm in Boston.
So, I'm sitting at my desk and the head of a different division comes to my cube.

"You no good thief!"


"Did you pick up some meters the other day?"

"Yeah, Saturday. I dropped them off at the shop."

"Well, I've got a police report here that says you picked up some meters and drove away with them. I have your license plate and everything. Someone reported you to the police."

"You know I worried about that but I knew those meters wouldn't last on the street until Monday especially on St. Patrick's day weekend, that's why I drove right to the shop and dropped them off and then took a photo of them."

"Did the police call you yet?"

"No. I've heard nothing."

"Well, they know you work with us and dropped them off so they probably just threw the report out"

I hope so.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

to get from one channel to another I mostly go one channel at a time so I see a bunch of things all in brief. I was doing this the other day and when I got to the Home Shopping Network, there was Esteban selling guitars. I like Esteban, I don't really know why but just watching him makes me a little bit happier.

"I just might buy one of those" I said as I was watching him.

"No you won't" I heard.

"I'll pick up the phone and order one right now."

"Go ahead and do it"

Okay, so I didn't pick up the phone and order one…

but I did go online and order one

March 18th

"So you didn't drink yesterday?"

"Nope. I was in the other office all day."

"And you didn't have anything to drink?"

"No." I'm not Irish or a tourist trying to get drunk.

I actually dislike being called an idea man

She asked how I felt about the meeting I had with the people that are redesigning the webpage.

"I don't know. Good I guess. They seemed to know what they are doing.'

"But don't you feel a little bit sad because it was something you created and soon you won't be doing it anymore." L asked

"No not really."

"How long have you been doing it?" T asked

"About ten years"

"Wow, that's a long time. And you don't mind?"

"Nope. Listen, I'm not a professional anything. Everything I do is mostly just to show people what can be done "

"An idea man."

"What? Yeah an idea man. When I first started that page I didn't want to be the one doing. It was just that there was nobody else. Today the internet has grown past my abilities and I really don't have time to catch up. I'm glad someone else is doing it. Back in the day the page was the best it could be, there weren't all these bells and whistles available back then. I wrote that page for a dial-up connection and poor resolution monitors. I won't miss it."
So I made the call at about 10:00AM and at 1:30PM I got a call back.

"Timmy, I have two tickets for you."

"That's great! Should I come pick them up?"

"Yes. Do you know where I live?" he asked but he knows I know where he lives he was just being kind in case I forgot.

"I'll be right there."

I had the tickets in hand about eight minutes later. I got a bit of a rush because I know what other folks have to do to get these tickets and all I had to do was call a friend.

I called the other friend that asked me to get them.

"I'm holding two tickets as we speak." I said

"So did he just have two tickets just lying around?"

"No! He had to call around to get them." It doesn't take three and a half hours to get ticket that you already have.

I hate being in the middle

I know some people, the kind of people some folks want to know. I never went out of my way to meet these people but our paths crossed and introductions were made. I was usually introduced because those people, the kind that some folks want to know, needed something. Usually, when I'm asked for things it's because it has to be kept quiet or it needs to be done quickly of a combination of both. Sometimes, these endeavors cost me something, time, money, lack of sleep but I never ask for anything in return. My favors have no conditions. My favors are indeed just favors, they are not the first part of an exchange.

But sometimes a friend will need something that I am not personally capable of supplying but I know I can broker a deal to get it done. I don't like asking people for things especially people I have helped in the past. I don't want people to think they owe me. I rarely tell people I know of the people that I know because I don't like being in the middle of asking for favors but sometimes people find out who I know.

I was asked to get someone a ticket to some annual event, people clamor for these tickets, it's a place to be seen. I've never had use for these tickets before because I like my unseen status. But I was asked so I asked, I asked the person who would make it the easiest for me. I just asked once because I don't like being a nag but it turns out, the person I asked forgot, hence a plan B.

Plan B impose upon an important friend, a friend in politics. I called him at home the day before the event. I'm now waiting for a phone call.

I hate being in the middle.

Friday, March 17, 2006

I came back from doing the thing that I did and rejoined him at the bar only he was in a different seat by then, I sat to his left, his seat was directly in front of the dishwasher. The thing about sitting directly in front of the dishwasher is you have to practice being a gentleman, if you wish to be a gentleman because the dishwasher sits low and the cut of the bartenders' tops usually sit low so when they are loading or unloading the dishwasher you sometimes can see down the front of what they are wearing. Or so I'm told because I always glance away or maintain a very focused eye contact with them if I happen to be talking to them.

So, I sat next to my friend who is deaf as a haddock and blind as a bat and he leaned over to me and rather loudly said "She's wearing a baby blue bra" as he pointed, without looking, over the bar. I thought he knew she was standing right there because he seemed to be making no secret of what or who he was talking about. So, me being me, I said "I'm sorry" which is always what I say if I miss what was said. I thought I heard most of what he said but I was curious if I heard him correctly because I didn't know why he would be telling me such a thing.

He repeated himself just as loudly and this time he pointed more emphatically and it so happened that he actually ended up pointing right at her cleavage, only this time he sort of followed through with a look in the direction of his point. His jaw dropped when he saw her standing there and once he gathered himself a little he began to apologize. And then he turned to me and asked why I didn't tell him she was there. I told him I thought he knew.

After awhile she let him off the hook and told him they dress like that on purpose because it helps with the tips.

As another bartender came in I asked our current bartender to cash us out, because she should have to split tips with someone who just started when she's been serving us all day. My friend saw the receipt and asked me if we were settled with the bar.

"Yeah, we are, up to that beer in front of you."

"Did you leave a tip?"

What the fuck kind of question is that? is what raced through my head but he was having a bad day with choosing his words so I let it slide. I looked to our bartender who had heard the question and she looked back at me as I said "No! I didn't because the service here sucked" rolling my eyes as I nodded my head in my friend's direction. But really what kind of question is that and he's always telling me I tip too much. He's the one that figures out twenty percent no matter how long we've been sitting there, no matter how many free beers we get, no matter that we don't have to ask for the free nachos, no matter that sometimes they don’t even make him walk up to the free buffet but fix him a plate before they bring the food out for everyone else.

No, I didn't tip. This was the one day I decided to screw over the bartender on the very day you so blatantly point out that you've been looking down her shirt, the shirt of someone younger than your youngest child. Yeah, I'm the asshole. How many horrible things are you going to say today?

Before our bartender left he tipped her again. I guess the low cut tops do help with the tips.
We were on or maybe we were just drunk but either way there seemed to be a good time happening, that's what happens when you get the seventeenth of March off as a paid holiday, you go out drinking the night before.

Toward the end it was just me a blonde from California and her brunette friend. Her name was Kelly and her friend's name was Melissa.

"Tim, you don't say too much do you. But, hey, that's cool" Kelly said.

"I already know my stories. I would rather hear other people's." I said as I realized I had just quoted from my own blog.

some fools are pretty ingenious

Listening to him I started to enjoy his naiveté. He was explaining why the plan wouldn't fail. He was trying to sell his plan to the cube neighbor and what started out as a brief sales pitch turned into an hour long infomercial. He was backing up his facts and figures with theories and studies; it all looked good on paper. He said it was foolproof.

I've been around enough to know that the best made plans some times don't work out, so you never promise something to be foolproof because some fools are pretty ingenious. To make something foolproof you have to think like every fool that will come across your little something. You have to think foolishly and take into account that foolishness which technically makes part of your plan foolish.

The guy, that was talking, lives his whole life on paper. He has never had to suffer the consequences of a plan gone wrong. He's never had to fix his own mistakes because he is just a planner. In his mind the plan was good; it was the environment that was wrong. He'll start to sell his plans to others, others who have had to deal with prior mistakes, others who have gotten their hands dirty in the real world, and he'll meet resistance. He will get frustrated that not everyone will jump onboard his paper train.

Sometimes you have to follow your gut which can't be pie charted or vectored on a graph. He doesn't respect the gut instinct, the instinct that comes with time and sweat. He disregards the failures. He thinks that today is a different day but today will only be different if you don't repeat the mistakes of yesterday.
"Are you a fan of the Beatles?"

"No, not really" I don't mind the Beatles. I wouldn't turn the station if the Beatles came on. I don't own any Beatles music. How do you define fan? I felt almost guilty that I said I wasn't a fan. Isn't everyone supposed to love the Beatles?

I don't own any Elvis either. I like Elvis better than I like the Beatles. Am I a fan of Elvis? How do you define fan?

Over at the definition for fan is: an ardent devotee; an enthusiast.

Can't I enjoy the both or either without being a fan?

Why is it that too often people narrow down the choices to just two opposing things? Often there are a bunch of choices in the middle.

"You're either with us or against us"

but where does that put the following quote?

"I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it"

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Normally, this would not get posted because instead of finishing it just sort of ends...

and I really have no interest to write it better and I've got nothing else, well nothing else that is typed and ready to send.

I volunteered to do something that no one likes doing, it was a fifty-fifty change that I would have ended up doing it anyway. If I hadn't volunteered it would have been left to a coin toss. The coin toss proposition is what set me off. I was already irritated that I was called into the conference room when the situation wasn't all that dramatic. I thought we were professionals. I guess we're a bunch of whiney babies.

So, I not too happy doing someone else's job but things could have been worse which was proven when things got worse. I don't do that job every day so I'm a little slower at doing it than the regular guy. The regular guy has all these account numbers memorized. I have to look the numbers up. The line starts to get long and then it gets longer but I'm not too worry because I'm moving people in an out and I'm dealing with the annoying phone calls as well but then the assistant to the big boss comes over and needs something asap.

I sent the assistant away because I have to move the line. I service all the people and then find the big boss's assistant.

"I'm sorry about that but I had to get rid of those people." I said.

"Oh, that's no problem. I know things are crazy and that this isn't your regular job. I appreciate any help you can give. Part of the problem is that we can't wait until tomorrow."

She then asked me for something that I had never done.

"I'll see what I can do."

It involved screen captures and some other things but I got it done. I had wanted to go ballistic because this could have all been avoided if we were properly staffed. I common gripe among my division but I only had people not in control to complain to so I kept my cool.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

I sat at the bar and after a moment or two of being ignored she placed a beer in front of me. I wasn't going to say anything because the whole building was tense. I looked her in the eye and before I could ask the question that I already knew the answer to she said "Not good." I could have told her that and usually I would have cracked wise but things were actually worse off then 'not good' so I kept my mouth shut.

The guy sitting next to me started talking. I think he would have been talking even if I wasn't there but I was so he directed his words at me. His talking was mostly about whatever was showing on the TV but then it was like he received some grand revelation.

"Don't you usually sit down there?" he asked as he pointed to my usual seat.

"Yup." I wasn't very talkative, not that I'm ever very talkative, I was busy trying to figure out if there was a way I could brighten someone's day. I figured I could at least keep this guy talking to me because every time he stopped talking to me he started talking to the bartender. She wasn't enjoying the situation. Unfortunately I'm not a talker.

During one of the guy's talking episodes with the bartender, I could feel her looking at me so I looked up from wiping the condensation off my beer glass.

"I quit" she softly told me over the guy's conversation and she said it not as if she was giving up on the situation at hand but like she had just quit her job.

"Did you give your two weeks notice?" I asked not knowing if she was serious or not but I usually play everything straight so she didn't know if my question was serious or not.

"I just gave it to you."

"Don't you work here?" the guy asked me.

"No. I don't work here." I said with a laugh, but if you watch me I do act like the bartenders when they're off duty but are still hanging out at the bar. I'll stack glasses, keep my section of the bar dry, tell people where the rest rooms are, bus my own dishes.

I was sitting in front of the dishwasher and every time the bartender came out from hiding to clean glasses she would ask how I was doing. I think she felt a little quilty that she was leaving me by myself but she wasn't ready to talk to me so she just asked how I was doing and walk away. I always said "Fantastic." After about an hour her attitude changed but by then I had to leave.

"Now you're leaving? Now that I'm in a good mood? You should have left before."

"I figured before it was important for me to 'be there' for you and now you don't need me. There are times I have to behave."

"Why did someone say something?"


"Dave's coming in." I was drinking Tequila shots with Dave the day before.

"I really gotta go. Tuesday's aren't good for me. And if I see Dave nothing good is going to come from that."

"Why not?"

"Because I have to work the two jobs on Tuesday."

"Thanks for the truffles. They were good. We opened them Saturday."

"I'm glad you liked them." I was a little surprised she mentioned them because usually she doesn't mention things like that, she'll say 'Thank you' at the time but not after the fact. She has trust issues; she usually keeps her true deep feelings walled up even if there is little harm in showing them. Her genuine thoughts, she usually keeps secret and she just gave me a peek.

"We would have opened them Friday but *she* was here and she would have eaten them all. Are you coming back later?"

"Ahh yeah, I don't think so. I'll see you later."

Monday, March 13, 2006

Mondays are a free night for me. Usually no one is looking for me and I have nothing scheduled. So, sometimes on Monday I stay late at the bar. I got out early, two thirty because I did something extra, an hour for lunch and thirty minutes of how-do-you-do and I was off the clock.

She gave me a beer and when her lunch of chicken quesadillas came up she asked if I wanted a piece. I didn't say anything right away.

"Tim! How can you refuse that offer? She just asked it you wanted a piece" another regular said. He's also a bartender at a different bar, he may be the only one that is there more than I am.

"I would love a piece" I said with a grin and as much glee as I could muster as I returned my attention to her and away from a meaningless baseball game.

"Let's not get crazy now. We're only talking about quesadillas. How come I always say the wrong thing around you, Tim?"

I just smiled and then told the regular of the time she had a customer who was having trouble deciding on whether or not to keep his tab open or pay as he went. She told him "I'll just take it in the end." I just laughed. She asked what's so funny but then she got it. I asked if she would she then asked "Wouldn't you like to know?"

After the beer there was a shot of Patron then two beers, then a shot of Patron and then my phone rang. I had to go to the second office, is what I found out. One of the things I had to do was to set mouse traps at the owner's house. She wasn't going to be there but Nicole was going to be. I've never meet Nicole.

"She going to leave the back door opened for me and she has a nanny or something whom I've never met."

"Hi, I'm Tim, you don't know me but I'm hammered" the regular said in mock conversation.

"Exactly." I said as I shurgged my shoulders.

But that didn't stop me from having another beer and a shot of Patron as I wrote on a cocktail napkin: 1/4 page ad, mouse traps, with the hope that I wouldn't forget.

so, maybe a had a few too many - this is off the cuff, unedited.. are there two t's in edit or just the one?

When I first moved to New York, my father teased me by saying, “There’s one thing New Jersey has that New York will never have.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A view of New York.”

I pinched that from a March 12 post off of Jamie's site.

It just made me think sometimes I get too close to a thing to remember its beauty.

It's hard to enjoy a skyline view when you're walking around at street level. Sometimes, it's not a bad idea to take a few steps back to remember where you are, to remember where you're going, to be reminded that some folks wouldn't mind having you're queue in life.

Sometimes, I focus more on the trash in the gutter than the blue skies above.


I did this fluff piece half a thousand years ago and published it to the internet. Maybe, it was only ten years ago but in internet years, that's close to five hundred. The fluff piece came about for marketing purposes, for searches and links pointing in, it was all about the hits, which they call page views now.

I took some photos, wrote some things, neither were very good; my digital camera was good when new but back then good was still not all that good and the writing was mainly just to get to the next photo. When the page was up, I told the person I did it for "This needs to be rewritten. This is just to show something you can do." Well, it was never rewritten, it remained mostly unchanged save for the names of a couple points of interest had changed.

I recently decided that I would rewrite the page; I started taking some photos. Driving around my old home town, I realized that I still like it. There is a lot I don't like, the racism, the bigotry, the foolish pride, the intolerance, the ignored drug use but there are other parts mostly the parts that the residents can't change, or at least not change that easily, that I still enjoy. The parts of American history memorialized, the waterfronts, and the parks, I like them all. I even like some of the people still there.

So, I picked up a Gadsden Flag patch when I was at my local National Park Service gift shop a couple months ago. The Gadsden Flag is the "Don't Tread on Me", usually yellow with the rattlesnake, that came to be prior to the U.S. Revolution. I really had no use for it but I liked it so I bought it but then it seemed like a shame to have it just gather dust in my possession so I started to think of who I could give it to but didn't bother contacting the person until the other day. I didn't contact them because I don't like asking for addresses over the internet; it a crazy psychological deficiency I have. I don't want to ask people to trust me. I would rather have trust in me earned and I have a hard time earning trust to my own satisfaction. Sometimes I do not allow people to trust me.

"What? I trust you" they will say and then I will say "Yeah I know, but just in case" and it's not that I can't be trusted it's just that I need them to know that their trust hasn't been misplaced.

But that's not the point of this story. I had a patch somewhere in my house that I was finally going to mail and instead of finding the patch I had I was just going to buy another. It would just be easy on me, I thought and plus it would get me out of the office. So, I went to the National Park Service gift shop, looked around and I couldn't find the patch. When I got the patch months ago, they were sitting right on the counter. I asked the people there, there were three on them behind the counter, if they had any more. They had bookmarks on the counter with various types of American flags, throughout American history, I pulled one out and pointed to the Gadsden Flag.

"Do you have any more of the Gadsden Flag patches?"

"The what?"

"A patch of the Gadsden Flag." The three of them look at each other.

"I don't think we ever had them" the younger female park ranger said.

"I got one awhile ago. They were sitting on the counter but I don't see them now."

"I don't remember ever having them."

"You did, but it was awhile ago."

"I don't remember seeing them either" the older female park ranger said.

"I bought it here. They were on the counter. There were only a couple of them but they were right here."

"There was talk about some supplier who wanted us to carry some Gadsden Flag items. Maybe he dropped some items off and they just sold what the guy dropped off as a sample, just to get rid of them. I don't remember seeing them either but I usually work over at the U.S.S. Constitution" the male park ranger said.

"I never saw them. Are you sure you bought it here" the younger female park ranger said

"Absolutely." I said and then paused for effect, "I was here and I bought one of these with it" as I held up a National Parks Service postcard, and then added "I'll bring it in and show you if you want."

"No that's alright"

"Well, thanks anyway" I said and then left.

And walking back to my office all I could think about was proving the help at the sales counter wrong. I was trying to remember if I saved the receipt or not. I knew I still had the post card, I knew I still had the patch and I was pretty sure that both were still in the same plain paper bag that they came in.

And then I thought, "What a spaz you are" you're going to go through all this effort to try and prove some strangers wrong, which by the way would be impossible because the patch was just in a plastic sleeve with a card that had no mention of the Parks Service and the price tag made no mention of the Parks Service either and I may have already removed the price tag because I was going to gift the patch.

And then I thought, "What a spaz you are" because I was going through all this crazy thinking just because I didn't want look through the small stack of mail and other assorted stuff in the small pile that has gathered by my laptop computer. At worst it's in with a box of books that I got tired of moving from a chair one day.

I did get me out of the office though, for like seven minutes.

geedee government workers


So, if you're one of those freaks that are into reading sidebars, you know that I have a link to the NFL Cardinals

The only reason that link is there is because I once read that the cardinal is the most ferocious of the of the songbirds and I just like that statement so I posted it. I don't know if it's true or not but who's going to argue with you? The red-headed house finch crowd? Notwithstanding I think naming a football team after any songbird is wrong. It's just bad marketing.

I do like the Cardinals. I always have. I also like the Seahawks. I always have even when they did do so well but that's a different post.

Anyway the Arizona Cardinals signed Edgerrin James, so I wish them luck because with James they will be doubly ferocious.

(If your panties are all in a knot right now, I don't know if finches are songbirds or not, please pardon my ignorance)

Saturday, March 11, 2006


I posted the emails

I didn't bother reading them

some I don’t think are complete thoughts

they got posted because Melissa posted something for me


So I swing by my lunch place and they're out of Bud Light drafts which is fine because I'm drinking ginger ale but that means most folks are buying bottled beer.

The three guys to the right of me, the same guys sitting in my usual seating area, are drinking Bud Lights and having a pizza. I watch them have three bud lights a piece, normally nine Bud Lights would be thirteen fifty if they were drafts but these are bottles so it's forty dollars and fifty cents. I find out that they each had four beers and twelve bucks for the pizza brought the total to $66 before tip, over double what the bill would be normally. They were businessmen so screw them.


I know that plotter makes a noise that doesn't sound good. It's been making that noise for the past three years so please just shut the fuck up about it.

I don't know why people are scare of quietness. I can understand if the voices in your head won't be quiet but come on.

I like it when I'm with someone and we can both be quiet together, when there is no forced conversation, no made up pleasantries. If something comes it comes otherwise just sit still, there is nothing wrong with that.


So, dude is high strung. He's wound tighter than a drum. He's tense. He worries. He has a lot of stuff bottled up; I would suggest that he start a blog but blogs are lame or so I hear.

I have too many people asking for my time, sometimes.

Other times, the whole world seems to do fine without me.

It wouldn't take much for my life to be forgotten

Heck, I don't remember much of it and I'm pretty sure I was there


She asked if I was going to be in the office later on. I'm sort of scheduled to be there every Thursday so I told her that I would be by. She then let me know that she wanted something added to the website. What she wanted was something I have never done before and I still don't know that much about html code so I was slightly concerned.

I was upstairs when she came in; I was busy and she was busy; I didn't see her until 10:45PM. I updated her on some things and then she asked about the webpage.

"Do you think we'll be able to do it?"

"Something's up already but you might want to look at it"

"It's up already? It was that easy?"

"Well, No. It took me a couple hours."


Lately, I've been having trouble putting a period on things. I like to wrap things up at the end. Sure in the beginning sometimes it seems like everything is all lose and unrelated but usually by the end there is that one little sentence that cinches everything up into a tight little bundle.

Okay, that doesn't happen often but it happens sometimes and in the cases when it doesn't happen there is usually at least a thought that gets closed. That hasn't been happening lately. I haven't been seeing the point of my typing. It's just a bunch of words in a somewhat readable jumble.

I should just post the stuff and let folks figure out whatever it is I'm trying to convey. Maybe they'll clue me in. Maybe seeing that stuff posted will give me a clue.


I was surprised to see her. She was in the class of friends that didn't come to places like this. It was no secret to where I would be found; I made it public knowledge. She sat at the bar even though ladies usually don't belly up bar. She was meeting me at my present level which was slightly uncomfortable for me. She was out of place and she placed herself there on my account.

I have three distinct classes of friends: the white collar, the blue collar and the others. The white collar friends are the business professionals I've met along the way. They are the people who needed something done or the friend of someone who needed something done. The blue collar people are the ones that I've been around when the things were getting done, they are the ones I hang around the most. I'm mostly one of them but not quite. The others are folks I went to school with, people I've met in the bars, met through family members.

The three groups nearly never meet each other. I'm an ambassador between the groups. I'm a translator; I speak the talk of all the groups. I know how each group hears; the same word means different things to certain people.


"Where were you all day?"

"I met someone for lunch"

"Who? Lady G?"


"Why didn't you come here? Because she thinks you're a drunk?" She does but that's wasn't the reason. "You were here all day yesterday."

"I don't know about all day. I was here for lunch."

"Danielle said her day went by quick because you were here all day"

"Oh, well I wouldn't want to contradict Danielle"

I was actually only there for an hour but I like it when they get jealous over the time I spend with each of them.


I brought my heart paperweight to the second job because I felt it would be safer there and as I was clearing a space for it, I remembered that the owner's daughter sometimes sits at my desk. The owner's daughter has ADHD and some other problems and sometimes she takes things. I realized that my paperweight wasn't safe there either, so I hide it and in hiding it I moved a little decorative piece of paper I had forgotten.

It was small and printed with a design and had areas cut out. In the middle there was text that read: I can live without you but without you I don't do much living. Thank you for letting me hang around.

Sometimes, I seem obsessive probably because at times I'm obsessive. My defense is that I'm consistently obsessive about everything to the same degree.


I live in a political town, and here there are two classes of people concerning politics, those that are in and those that are out. I was always the type that would read the papers, listen to the news and vote and that was about it. I never gave money. I never volunteered time. I never donated services. I rarely even talked politics.

But then a friend was named treasurer of someone's campaign, then I was in. I don't like politics. I don't like the dirty tricks. I don't like that honor takes a back seat. I don't like that the truth doesn't matter. I don't like that it's a popularity contest. I don't like that a person's merit is irrelevant. I don't like the phony gladhanding. I don't like the back room deals. I don't like that it's mostly a members only type deal. I don't like that the vote of a dumb ass counts the same as the vote of an educated voter.

We made it to the show, the main election, we beat out five other contenders. We lost in the main election. After that my skills were tapped a little here and there for other candidates but I did my best to fade out of sight. It took awhile.

Some people love politics. I don't. It's a dirty game and if you play it fair you will most likely lose.

Despite my aversion to the political process, I give money, I volunteer time, I donate services, I talk politics - but mostly just the first. Money is usually dirty and dishonored anyway, money loves politics.

Thursday, March 09, 2006


There should have been a post by now.

There has actually been the usual amount of writing but it's just isn't making it to the blog cause I have to email my precious words to myself and then post them and that little extra step is just enough to make it not worth it. Maybe if I wrote better or at least about better things then I would be motivated to post.

I'll try to think something up

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

So, we're talking, it was down to her and me, there is nobody else in the place. We were not really looking at each other, we were either looking out the window at the passersby or at the TV with some pre-season baseball on it. The place was out of Bud draft beer, so I asked for a bottle of Amstel Light, she told me that's what her boyfriend drinks and then, after a slight pause, she told me her mother drinks it as well. We were talking about people's nature and about relationships, about her boyfriend and her and some things about me during which she called me by someone else's name. The same name as one of my friends. I just let it slide because my friend's not a bad guy, the association could have been worse. I didn't know if she knew she did it or not but then she did catch herself.

"I just called you Dick" she acknowledged just a little louder than a whisper. I just shrugged my shoulders, still without looking at her, trying to demonstrate that the slip was not noteworthy. She started talking about her boyfriend's father, she said how sometimes she will see more of him than she sees of her boyfriend. She said she likes talking to his father and she used his first name, Dick.
The potatoes started growing so I started peeling them. There must have been about ten left in the paper sack, which would make quite a bit of mashed potatoes but once mashed they would be eaten. I had two peeled and chopped when my three year old niece climbed into the seat next to me.

"Timmy, what are you doing?"

"Making mashed potatoes."

"Can I help?"

"Sure but you might get a little slimy"

"That's okay, Timmy. I can wash."
I have this habit of holding paper cups and glasses in such a way that my pinky finger doesn't actually touch the beverage container while all my other fingers do. I don't know when or why I started this, I only know that I do it. My pinky doesn't stick in the air but it does stick out a little bit, I think a very little bit.

I heard someone clear their throat so I turned around and I took a swig from my Starbucks Marble Mocha Macchiato.

"What's with the pinky in the air?"

"I'm cultured."

Sunday, March 05, 2006

I could not care less about Spring Training
They're good friends and they like me so I get to hear stories.

"Oh. I've got a story for you. The last time we went to a football game together, I was driving, she was hung over and I had to stop twice for her to throw up and on the last time, she's leaning out the door and she farts right in the car and all she said was "Sorry""

"Always a lady" I said

"Tell her I told you" I just nodded because I'm saving it for a rainy day.

Pretty girls are bold

"I have a birthday coming up but I don't want you to buy anything for me. I want you to make some of those cookies you made for me before."

"What cookies were those?"

"I wasn't around for the last bake sale so you made some cookies just for me."

"I don't remember. What kind were they?"

"They had a fruit filling"

"Oh, thumbprint cookies. We'll see."

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Friday you could find us in our usual place, sitting at the bar and more specifically by where they make the drinks or pour the drafts. We watch as one bartender mixes a drink and pours it into two martini glasses. We know they are going to table eleven, well I know it’s table eleven, the others know it as the table in the front corner.

At table eleven are two elderly women. They came in carrying a couple small bags from stores in the area, normally I would assume that they are tourists but these ladies had a certain familiar confidence about them. I guessed their ages to be around seventy.

“Jen what are those?” Dick asked.

“They’re margarita’s.”

“Those ladies are drinking margarita’s? You gotta like their style.”

“They come in all the time and drink one margarita each” Noel added. Noel was the waitress serving the ladies.

“Isn’t that something?”

“Why don’t you buy them a drink?” I asked.

“Why don’t you?” he asked back

“I think I will. Noel I got those. How much?” I asked reaching into my pocket. I was running a tab but it’s a pain to transfer drinks from the floor to the bar so I was going to pay cash.

“Twenty-one” Twenty one was more than I expected but I started counting unphased. I had a twenty peeled off when Noel said “No sir. It’s only fourteen” so I tossed her the twenty past Dick who was sitting to my right.

That’s when my two friends and the bartender started asking questions and making crazy accusations, like I was trying to get lucky, or trying to be some rich lady’s boytoy and trying to get on the will. I just let them have there fun and kept the real reason to myself.

I watched those ladies come in, I could tell they had been friends for a long time and I sensed that possibly the two of them only had each other to depend on, on most days. If either one of them had to make a call it was going to be to the other one of them. I smiled at the thought of being retired and just hanging out with a good friend as the rest of the busy world rushed by and me not giving a care. I also thought that buying them a drink would give them something to talk about on Bingo night or its equivalent. Buying them a drink would mean more than just saving them fourteen bucks.

Once the jokes died down, Dick purposefully looked past my left to the lady that was sitting there.

“Why don’t you buy her a drink? She’s pretty.”

I just sighed a bit and said “We’ll see” I didn’t actually buy her a drink but told her about the free buffet that would be put out soon after I heard her ask about the appetizers. She seemed to be having some sort of worry. It seemed to be a relationship problem which is actually why I didn’t buy her a drink. I thought there was too much of a chance that I would end up being a band-aid solution for something that was more than skin deep.

After awhile it was just me, I usually outlast my friends and the other early regulars.

“What do you want before you yell at me?” Lauren asked.

“When have I ever yelled at you?”

“Last week when I put a beer in front of you and you said that maybe you didn’t want a beer?”

“Oh yeah, I remember that but I didn’t yell.”

“So, what do you want?”

“I was thinking gin and ginger”

After that I ordered a Red Death as a drink as opposed to a shot. Red Death tastes a lot like fruit punch even though it’s ninety eight percent booze.

“You’re gonna get fucked up” Lauren said as she passed me my drink. I just shrugged my shoulders.

When my glass was empty Jen asked what was next and I said I was done, she protested just as I saw Nina walk in behind her. I see Nina rarely, I think just five times in the years I been going there so I decided to stay for another one.

“Okay, I’ll have another. You can pick it.”

As Jen was making my drink Nina was telling me about the 'March of the Penguins' and that I should see it. I’m always surprised by the familiarity that Nina shows me even though I rarely see her. I assume it because she roommates with Lauren.

Jen placed a martini glass in front of me and Nina asked her what it was, Jen told her the ingredients and then Nina asked what the name if it was.

“It doesn’t have a name” but then she thought a moment. “I call it a Timmy-tini.”

I was truly done after the Timmy-tini and asked for my bill. I took a quick look at it and noticed I wasn’t charged for at least my last drink.

“This doesn’t exist if I don’t get charged for it” I said pointing at my empty glass.

“Oh, it exists alright” Jen said and I later found out that her words where true riding home on the subway. I had to stop thinking of Timmy-tini’s because every time I did I would laugh. I’m glad there weren’t a lot of folks around.