Ok....today's header is not really a song title...just a take off on a Gilbert O'Sullivan song(and if I have to clue you in to who that is - I'm way too old for you to be reading this blog probably.
Tom G got me drunk two nights ago.
Yes, it is always easier to blame someone else for these types of things. In reality, I have no one to blame but myself......and Tom G. Oh yeah, he's going down!
Ok, I paid the tab, so maybe ultimately I take the responsibility.
I was doing some work travel in-state this week and ended up staying over at my old stomping grounds (sorry Ditto). The plan was to have dinner with Mr. G. And we did - that is, if you consider eight or nine drinks and a half-eaten salad "dinner".Actually, I may have been on my second drink by the time he showed up. It's not that I'm a lush (it's not that I'm not), but he was late! What's a boy to do?
As we caught up, joked around, traded stories, sports chat and funny tales. The drinks just seemed to keep coming. I swear sometimes we did not even request them. It's not that some chivalrous gentleman was buying us rounds - I think the waiter was just trying to pad the bill. I'll get back to him in a minute.Tom is one of those people I just love being around. We totally get each other without having to explain ourselves, or our jokes. We can also trade the bawdiest of stories (mainly about ourselves) without the slightest inkling of judgment from the other.
I was relaying a story about my ex-gay boss (he's still gay - just not my boss) and talking about drag performers and he mentioned one: Miss Sonya Ross. David said (s)he was from Cleveland, I said from Columbus. He/She used to tend bar (as a man) at Trends back in the day. ...but my story was really to lead up to how my ex-gay boss had seen Mary Ann Brandt and how I know Mary Ann.
But we barely got past the name association of Sonya (call her 'Ms. Ross'), because who the frick would have thought that after 12-15 years that not only was she still around - but sitting RIGHT NEXT TO US!
Neither Tom or I know what got his/her attention - my 'voice that carries' or his
I should mention that we were having dinner in a gay establishment. Albeit, a nice one with a good menu, but we were eating in the bar. Plasma televisions everywhere playing 'two for Tuesday'. Which meant having to sit through two crappy Beyonce videos (is that redundant?), then two crappy P. Diddy vids, etc. Is this really what gay men listen to?
Ruckiry (not Jon's boss), they then switched to '80s videos. Yes, it was good and bad. For every Bow Wow Wow song, you had to endure Ray Parker Jr.!!!! eeeeeeeek. For the joy of getting to see Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield" ("leave me alone!") - you had to sit through the 18 minute Michael Jackson "Thriller" video. Early MTV was a blessing and a curse - wasn't it?
At the magical hour of 8p (or was it 9?), the videos switched off and on came "Dancing with the Stars"!!!!!! Jebus Fucking Christ! Tom axed the bartender if he could put on a Joan Crawford movie - to which I immediately added that it 'would be less gay than what you're showing right now'.
Yes, we were endearing ourselves to patrons and proprietors alike. Including the waiter. I told you I'd get back to him.
Man, was he snotty. And just not good enough of a waiter to back up the snob with. When we actually ordered beers and water - IF they came, he'd say, oh they had to tap a new keg. Honestly, I wasn't drinking that much! But I also had to come back with something snide like 'are you tapping a new keg for the water too???'. Miss Thing got all bent out of shape.
Naturally, the closer the time came to cash out, the nicer he got. He wasn't fooling anyone - least of all Tom and myself.
I finally I got up to break the seal and noticed it was 11:36! P.M.!!! Not only way past my bedtime, but I had been there "having dinner" for five hours. Not only was Tom late for dinner - I arrived early, so.........
We got out of there (not before me running my hand through some guy's beard)and headed our separate ways. Him to his house - me barreling down I-670 to my hotel. Drunk. Again. In Columbus.
Some things never change.