Just say Yeah if you feels alright
I’ve changed again. Somehow or another, I’ve discovered that making plans with people as opposed to making plans on the fly is actually more fun. Ya see, when you have people pencil you in for a date, time, and place, you then have a more or less guaranteed slot on their social schedule. Whereas if you try to plan things the same day, you may not get them, and thus not have as much fun as if you were with them.
Do you see the distinction?
And so I put it to the test for Friday night, and had happy hour in the Financial District with Roze. We ate at this super delish and cute Thai place overlooking Fisherman’s Wharf and enjoying the evening sun. Then we went to Royal Exchange nearby and finally the bar in the Hyatt on its awesome atrium level with its divine mixed drinks and bad service. We both spoke of wishing we worked in the Financial District so as to have regular sightings of hotties in business attire on a regular weekday basis.
Saturday, I hung out with the horrendous Costella, and was up far later than I should’ve been, thus essentially deleting any plans for Sunday. And although I’d planned a drunken power walk to Valencia with Dascha, I was too beat and she herself had just come home at 4:00 am.
But I rallied my defenses yesterday, which I had off, and made the most of it. I returned J. Co’s cable box to Comcast and bought Sugar a $30-fucking bag of cat food.
Speaking of, Sugar is the last sort of creature you ever want near you when you are hung over and/or unhappy. Her entire existence revolves around needing:
1) affection
2) food
3) to go to the bathroom.
And when you try to accommodate any one of them for her, it always ends up being the wrong one. She starts squeaking and howling like a rabid wilderbeast, so I go to pet her, and she shakes her head before I’ve even touched her as if she beridding herself of some invisible, offensive dirt on my hands. Or she starts wailing away plaintively, so I assume she has to pee/poop, and open the door. And she stops right at the door and looks at me like I’m an idiot. Or I go to put a cup of food in her bowl, and she darts over and gives me this incredulous look as if I’ve just said something really stupid.
Charming feline.
