my weekend, by anonymous
Friday, I ended up at Bootleggers. Some of you know the place. Others, think Water St., State St. or your local downtown choch bar. In any case, I very much avoid even a sixty-foot radius typically (I bombed my sixth-grade health quiz on STIs and can’t be too careful).
The usual scantily-clad Barbie costumes were about so the scenery was decent. Still, the scene was terrible. I dressed in an obscure costume (watch the last eight seconds of ‘Always Sunny.’ sort of) and chilled behind the “dance floor,” intermittently being bumped to the side by drunk cops, cowboys and jokers.
At one point, some woman rifled through my pockets, suspecting me of stealing her phone. She, wasted, was not gentle and had she been attractive I may have been a little more welcoming. As it was, she was two inches taller than I, a similar weight and dressed in a thrown-together-a-second-before-leaving “cowgirl” outfit. I was not amused.
Turns out, she had given her phone to a friend so she’s just a dumb box (I was surprisingly reassured). I headed back on the rail about midnight. Then I stayed up ’til three watching Flight of the Conchords and working on my new site (beta). Not a bad night, in summation.
Saturday, I headed up to 8th Street Grill before the Kings of Leon show (snaps will be in the usual place soon). It was there that I realized my identification card was missing (maybe knocked out when Amazon got frisky). I was surprisingly unfazed and enjoyed the show thoroughly.
I called Bootleggers yesterday but they haven’t gotten back to me. I will probably head to the DMV sometime this week. No big deal. Except for just one, tiny, barely significant, hardly worth mentioning thing. The election’s tomorrow and I’m not registered!
I was planning on same-day registration to avoid the cold-calling and lame emails (read: lazy). In order to do my civic duty I need to bring my passport (good thing I picked one up), a utility bill (of which I have none) and someone to vouch for my residing where I reside. Such a hassle over such a small chunk of flexible plastic.
Damn-it.
