Social Day

Work was alright – nothing spectacular. But afterwards, boy oh boy. Since Alex invited me out almost two weeks ago, I’ve felt… "not social enough." Bad to the point where I began wondering if I was seriously neglecting people that I called friends.

At work today, Ben invited me to go see Fritz Lang’s Man Hunt. Not great, but very enjoyable. A recurring phrase from that movie was "you little monkey," and I think it’s going to become a "thing" now, between all of us. I saw the movie with Ben and Justin and Emma. Good fun. I had never been to the Gene Siskel Film Center before, and that was a great deal of fun. I may very well have to get a membership there – it’s close to work, and a ton of good movies it seems. :)

Afterwards, some old bastard was complaining loudly about "the jerk who kept on laughing." My suspicions tell me he was talking about the guy behind us, but Ben and I were laughing a good deal throughout. Each time that "you little monkey" phrase came up, I chuckled. But when I heard Ben start to laugh, I get set off into this tirade of giggling – like, marijuana-delirious giggling. As we left, he was describing the "jerk" to the people in the ticket window. What a jackhole.

Afterwards, I hitched a ride with Justin and Emma. But as they dropped me off, they wanted to go to the Artful Dodger. Apparently, Justin and Stu have been discussing getting more into scotches lately, and Justin asked the bartender for some recommendations. He sampled about four or five different types of scotches (I’ve forgotten most of the names), and talked at length with Mateo, the bartender. Good guy, and he told us about "The Whiskey Museum" and some sort of "Whiskeyfest" downtown. He described attending, and about the tons of vendors hawking their wares. He said something akin to the fact that, after the fifth drink, he couldn’t taste shit.

But the next day, he remembered a particular label called "Lot 40." He went to look for it, but most places in the area were sold out, and remained sold out for the next four months.

The one scotch that I tried (hesitant, since I drank so much liquor in Columbus) was Lagavulin. It was quite, quite good – smoky and oak-ey (if that’s a word) is the best way to describe it. The whole taste of it made me want a cigarette really badly. Sort of like a cigarette and a mild clove and a pipe, all rolled into liquid form – that’s the closest I can describe the taste.

After we had had our drinks, a guy comes in selling various tamales. They were close to the kind I had a few weeks back, when I ran into the vendor on Ashland one Saturday morning. This guy charged $5, and I was thinking he was nuts… but then I realized he was selling six tamales for $5. They were quite good (I got chicken, Justin and Emma got Cheese). From here on out, I’m going to refer to this type of sale as the Muffin Lady Business Model. Don’t want for the drunken fools to stagger by your establishment. Bring your wares to them, and they shall consume.