I had dinner with Clara at Patxi’s tonight, but she had to do stuff at work that made her get out a bit later than usual, so I passed the time at the table by catching up on work and drinking PBRs. Then I remembered that I was wearing a flannel shirt and I realized: Oh, I guess I’m a hipster.
I think I’m fine with that.
I like flannel shirts. They’re comfortable — and, shit, I was wearing flannel shirts long before the hipsters did. Hello, I lived through the nineties.
And I like the taste of PBR. It’s a beer that I immediately liked, unlike Guinness, which I hated for a long time before I finally got used to it, as well as what I belatedly realized was a chocolate aftertaste. A lot of my coworkers drink Guinness, and to be a good sport, I would drink it with them instead of being the odd man out who orders something different. Blondes are my beer of choice, but I’m now slowly expanding to darker brews.
Speaking of blondes.
Wolfie made another joke about you and banging blondes on a sack of potatoes. I’ve mentioned that little running gag of his before in some other never-to-be-sent. He once mentioned “sack of potatoes” and then it just stuck. Whenever he wants to tease me about never having you, he just says that you’re busy banging a blonde on top of a sack of potatoes.
Please, Linc. If you’re going to bang a blonde, do it in some normal bedroomy way. The last thing I want is for Wolfie to stick it to me because you did, in fact, decide to bang a blonde on a sack of potatoes.
Patxi’s is a really good pizza place. There are a couple of locations around the city, but since I live in the Sunset, that’s the one I go to the most. Get the pan style. I love deep dish, but I also love cornmeal…
The game was on. It was really distracting, especially since Clara and I were having a good discussion going about life. Every now and then she’d catch me glancing at the TV behind her, get a little annoyed, and then every now and then she, too, would glance at the TV behind me — yep, Patxi’s has two TVs, and both were tuned into the Giants game. But of course.
Zito had a really rough first inning. It was really torturous to watch — and, well, you know what they say about Giants torture. After dinner, Clara and I were walking off all that pizza when a lady wondered aloud what the score was. I turned around to see not only her but also her companion, a balding gray-haired dude in a Giants track jacket similar to the one I was wearing. At that point, it was the second inning, and I called to them that the score was 2-0.
"I’m assuming that two is the Marlins," he said, employing the monotone associated with so many longtime fans who have seen it all yet are still fans. And then he smiled, nodded and gave his thanks.
I worked from home today, Linc. I wasn’t feeling so good, but more than anything physical, I was feeling mentally/emotionally ill, too. I feel really down lately. I shouldn’t, because I’ve got everything I want, but I don’t know what it is. Part of it is that I feel like my brain is fried from work, but work is work and that’s gonna happen to everyone. So what is it — loneliness? Seeing Spencer and her husband so happy made me happy, too. And then it made me really, really sad.