I sometimes take a little yellow notepad down to the bar with me of an evening. This last week I've probably started three or four posts in that little notebook that didn't ever make it out in to the big wide world of the internet, well the small piece of the big wide world that is my blog at least. So here are some of the high, or low, lights. It's one of those start one day, add a few bits and pieces the next day and finally finish it another day kind of posts, so probably not entirely coherent.
On Thursday I did something that I very rarely do, I took a day off work because I wasn't feeling well. Admittedly, there are several days during which I don't do any work, but I do normally try and be physically present in my office. Yesterday I just couldn't. Try as I might it was impossible to get out of bed. My head hurt (which could probably be attributed to a hangover), my stomach hurt (debatable whether it was alcohol related), my throat hurt, eyes itched and nose was blocked (which were all probably unconnected to Wednesday night's excesses). So I snuggled up under the covers and stayed in bed most of the day. I thought isn't it nice that I have the kind of job where I can take a day of work with nobody complaining. I also thought isn't it a shame that when I do take a day off work nobody inquires as to why I'm not at work. It is probably indicative of how unimportant the work I am currently doing is, and therefore I am.
After spending all day in bed I ventured out into the world Thursday evening so that I could find sustenance. The place I chose was on a little street a couple of blocks away from my lovely abode. Apparently it used to be an establishment by the name of Champs Diner, bedecked in Buckeye scarlet and grey of course. Now it is an Indian restaurant by the name of Food of India. It is still bedecked in Buckeye colours, but now has a pink curtain and a few little Indian nick-nacks on the wall. The food was okay, nothing amazing, but edible, if a little sweet. The whole thing was very strange though, you had your stereotypical Indian restaurant owners, terribly nice and poorly spoken, in this really odd location.
Thursday night the world was a very strange place. Firstly, I saw a girl flash her bits and pieces (both those upstairs and downstairs, if you know what I mean... and I'm sure you do) out the window of the bar. Well actually I saw the back of the girl while she flashed her front bits out the window. (The same girl was crying on the owner's shoulder on Saturday and, incidentally on Thursday night she had a parrot on her shoulder, not during the exposure but before and afterwards). Apparently, although I did not see it myself (fortunately), on the outside there was a gentleman (probably not one fit to be called so) reciprocating by flashing his member at her. It's not everyday that you see people flashing their private parts at each other in public, at least not at the establishments I regularly frequent. I also saw two grown men acting like school children; verbally poking each other for two hours before one of them physically removed the other from the premises. There were lots of drunk Russians, which is not particularly odd for Russians, but was moderately interesting for Ohio. I was left dumbfounded as to why someone would piss in the toilet without closing the door (to the bar). I'm pretty sure nobody wants to see a man pissing when all the wanted was a drink, I'm definitely sure that I don't want to see it. Oh and then somebody explained they're landmine removal theory to me. Sadly, it involves having surveyed the area beforehand, so not entirely ideal for the all the mines blowing people up in places like Angola. Between the nudity, the pissing, the Russians and the mine-man, I felt terribly normal by comparison at the end of the night.
After briefly returning to something akin to normality on Friday, Saturday was filled with work (unfortunately), art and beer. Lots of beer. You know it's going to be something of a heavy night when you start drinking at 3pm. If for some reason you have four pints (okay four girlie American sized pints) in less than an hour, you know it has the potential to be an enormously heavy evening. If you have the sense to stop drinking at George Best's best session rate, then you start to believe that maybe by the end of the evening you will not be offensively drunk. I even sobered up enough to wander down to the Short North and take in the sights of Gallery Hop, and feel, if only for a little while, that Columbus is actually a real city that has real people in it. The reason I went down to Gallery Hop was so that I could see the Civil Disobedience themed show that a friend was organising at a futon shop. Inevitably though I was drawn back to the bar for the Bacchanalian festival that is Guzzlefest Extravaganza. It all started mildly enough with a sipped beer and some food, but soon enough it, and I, descended into a state of drunken disorder. There were two bands playing at the bar, the first an Irish-drinking-folk band, The Bogtrodders, the second were the cowboy hillbilly hippy folk music group, Gruver-Deeluxe. Both were very good. Although I was a good deal more sober during the Bogtrodders than I was during Gruver. By the time the end of the evening came around I was on something like beer number 13 (of the evening session) and was pretty much the last person to leave the bar. Upon leaving the bar I stood outside my apartment for a few minutes in such a manner that the last barmaid to leave wondered if I'd locked myself out. I think I was just enjoying the cool air, well that and psyching myself up for climbing the stairs.
Needless to say, much of Sunday was clouded by a fuzzy head. In fact all of Sunday was. When I went down to the bar, for my free Sunday beer, there wasn't even a barmaid there to converse with. I had to make do with conversing to the other patrons, and, of course, the owner. Which wasn't too bad, but it's always nice talking to a pretty girl. At least I had an early night last night, not that that helped me to get in to work any earlier this morning.
Now I think I might go off to the gym, and try and work some of the residual laziness out of my bones.