I worked Saturday morning and afternoon, spending most of that time playing sudoku. At the end of the day, we dealt with a family of bitchy Michiganese tourists who came in 4 minutes before closing. We told them the only beverages still available were frozen ones because we'd already cleaned and shut down the espresso machine, having not had any customers for at least 50 minutes prior to them coming in. So they grumbled and decided to leave, but before doing so, looked at the hours posted on our door and both the wife and husband made seperate trips back into the store to announce, "Your door says you're open until 4." Per orders from management, we were closing at 2 (and have been for several weeks now). I tried to explain this to the husband but mid-sentence he walked away. Miffed, I told my coworker to, "Go lock those sorry motherfuckers out. Nothing pisses me off more than when I'm trying to explain something to somebody and they walk away in the goddamn middle of it. What a shithead."

After that, B showed up (we unlocked the door and let him in, of course) and I made him an Italian soda and then we went to Olive Garden. LN's girlfriend was working there and I said hi to her, but she really wasn't expecting it and looked like she'd been shot with a pellet gun. I avoided eye-contact for the rest of the meal.

The rest of the afternoon was dead boring. B and I had plans to see Superbad on Sunday, but our cabin fever was so bad, we opted to see it on Saturday instead. Superbad echoes the lives of its target audience, which is what makes it so special. And even if you can't really relate, it's still hilarious anyway.

We ended up going to McGuire's after that, for the first time in aaaages. It was around midnight when we got there and the place was more or less deserted, which B thought odd and promptly blamed on the new changes from their new management. The oddest thing is the fact that after 11 PM, they don't allow anyone into the pub who isn't over 21. Supposedly. When we got there, the pub was open seating and no one was checking ID's, but maybe things are different when they're busy. B didn't seem too enthused at being there, even though one of his friends whom he hadn't seen in several months just happened to be there also. I asked him about it and he said he was fine, but I feel pretty sure something wasn't sitting right with him, because when B is happy, B looks happy, and he just looked bored. I was formally introduced to the musician of the night whom I'd met before; this was the same guy whom Sunlight was vastly unimpressed with when B and I dragged him to his first McGuire's visit. To go off on a tangent, this was shortly after B's previous girlfriend had broken up with him, so of course he'd turned the charisma tap all the way on and spent a good portion of the night flirting with a Brazilian cheerleader or soccer goddess or whatever she was other than hot. Anyway, the musician in question plays the banjo, guitar, and mandolin. How is that not cool, Mr. Argentine Piano Whiz? And back on the subject of this most recent Saturday, I shook his hand and he asked me if we'd met before. I think I may've astounded him with my brilliant low-key response of, "Not formally. Hi, my name is _____. Now it's formal." He kind of just looked at me like I was peculiar but he wasn't trying to let on that he thought that. I suck at human interaction. Also I was drunk.

I drank a great big green drink--an Irish wake--and kept the great big jar and got great big drunk. So drunk, in fact, that I actually started a debate on the nature of relationships between men and women with B. It was interesting and informative and no one got in trouble.

When we got home, we were still in debate mode, but to a lesser degree and were discussing women we might potentially do or just plain found attractive and this subject somehow got him in the mood so we attempted to have wild erotic drunken sex, but mostly it was just sloppy and fun, except for when I was on top because it was making my drunken headache worse. We promptly collapsed in a tangle of limbs afterwards, sweaty and exhausted. I proceeded to wake up several times during the night thirsty and wishing I hadn't had the great big green drink.

The next morning I slept off what might've potentially been a hangover while B entertained himself at the comic book shop.

Sunday night a whole bunch of people B knows showed up to drink beer at our house. We spent a good portion of the night on the couch watching Back to the Future III and channel surfing through and MST3K-ing various softcore porns. Despite thinking it might be a wonderful idea, my previous night's experience with drinking kept me away from the beer, which is just fine with me. We all got bored with the porn and were also apparently hungry, so we loaded into the car and went to Waffle House where B's friends harassed our waitress and some of the patrons and ate great big gobs of food. B looked exhausted. I remember telling him that his eyes were all red and he looked very grumpy and I thought it was cute. He gave me a look equivalent to saying, "what means this, crazy wench?" and I explained that I just wanted to take him home and tuck him into bed, which is precisely what we did after all the Waffle House chow in question had been devoured or, like B's bacon, been left sitting forlornly on a plate.

We didn't get to sleep until 4 or so, and we didn't wake up until 2 in the afternoon. B spent literally all of Monday playing City of Heroes. He got up to eat and bathe and excrete wastes. I periodically wandered from my computer to his bed to the balcony and kitchen all day long. We were entirely unproductive. I felt almost ashamed.

The Science channel had an How It's Made marathon for Labor Day, so I ended up learning all kinds of things about the creation of mirrors and candles and neon signs and beer and chocolate bunnies.

So I guess it wasn't entirely unproductive. I did learn something.

Right now I'm at the coffee shop and my coworker is making muffins, something I should've done when I came in. Obviously I've been busy blogging.

I need to see if I can mooch more free contraceptive pill samples from the local women's clinic, but I forgot to bring my prescription info.

And. Um.

Okay, that's all there is.