A full week/end.

The head finisher here at work pulled his shoulder out of the socket Tuesday night, so we were back down to -2 Staff.

Right when we get a massive 30-banner job in. Fun.

Thursday, I stayed until 4:30 AM to finish trimming it all out. I wanted to leave early on Friday to take my friend Mike out, as he'd been feeling blue. We went out for pool & pizza. Neither of us are spectacular players, so the games were evenly matched. We parted around 12:30, and I got home around 2 AM.

Got up early on Saturday to get my chores done. Groceries, laundry, & random cleaning. Called up the tomboyish pool-playing veggie (TBPPV) and picked a restaraunt to eat at. We met at 7 PM at the Red Bamboo, a veggie Creole/Thai fusion place in the Village, a block away from the Blue Note jazz club (which will be mentioned again later on).

We were both overwhelmed by the choices. Being able to eat anything & everything on the menu is a rare thing. We started off with a fish stick appetizer. Neither of us had had them since we were kids (she turned veggie at 14). I went with the mango "chicken," and she had some variation of a burger & fries. We were tempted by the dessert menu, but were way too stuffed.

We walked uptown to the same place we've played pool, the same place I took Mike the night before, which I told her about. "So you practiced!" she said. She soundly whupped my ass as expected, but there was one game where I actually got far enough to call the pocket for the 8 ball. During a game, my buddy Lyman called up to see what time I'd be able to see him play at the Blue Note on Sunday, and if my other date would join me. We scheduled for the 8 PM show, and said we'd talk again the next day.

We called it quits around 11, and went in search for a decent, uncrowded bar. We must have walked for an hour or so before settling into this nice fighter-plane themed bar/restaraunt on 8th Ave. The bathrooms had speakers on which messages such as "In case of emergency, place your head between your knees to kiss your ass goodbye" were played.

I cracked up at that one.

We sat for a while & talked, ordered cheesey curly fries (which totally hit the spot), and doodled on the paper that covered the table. I got out my drafting pencil and got a little absorbed by the work. She just used the supplied crayons and made a Super-Mario world with a sun puking up a rainbow. It was great.

It was nearly 1 AM, so we walked up to 23rd street to get our respective trains. We got to 23rd & 8th, and hugged. I leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she wasn't having any of that.

We stood there & kissed for a few minutes like teenagers, oblivious to people asking for directions. I heard someone say, "excuse me, can you tell me which train...oh." I took a breath and smiled at her, saying, "...that was nice."

And then I kissed her some more.

Being kissed by someone who wants you is an absolutely wonderful thing.

I watched her descend the stairs and then took off towards 5th Ave to get the N. I had the stupidest grin on my face. I got home at 2:30. I could still feel her lips on mine.

I got online and sent a message to the super-adorable librarian-in-training (SALIT) about my jazz-musician friend who was also in town, and got us on the guest list for his show, and that I'd call her in the morning. I then crashed into bed.

I woke up Sunday around 10:30 and started to get my shit together for the day. I rang her up at 11, and we had some silly conversation. We agreed to meet up for the 2 PM showing of Hot Fuzz - which you all should see. "It's for the greater good." I hung up, and then continued getting my shit together, which was a little more difficult, as I was still kinda tired from the previous night. I then had enough forethought to send a message out to the TBPPV saying how nice last night was, and that we must do that again sometime soon.

I got there 15 minutes before it started. She was waiting outside, reading Eats, Chutes, and Leaves, listening to her iPod, wearing a denim jacket, a pink sweater, and a long black skirt.

I have a thing for long skirts. And bespectacled brunettes. Oh, she's so damn cute.

She greeted me with a hug, and I apologized for being late. She mentioned that she'd called me to say that she was running late, too. The messages hadn't registered on my phone because I was underground.

We waited in line for tickets, which I had hoped she'd pay for, as I bought the tickets last time around, but she had to get her tooth operated on the previous weekend. When she apologized, she said she'd pay me back. I was already $25 in the hole, and being a slut is expensive. But I didn't mention it, noticing that she didn't even reach for her wallet. We made our way up to the theater, talking about how she's studying to play an RPG with her friends, and then her cell phone went off. Her very close friend was calling, but then she turned the phone off. We sat down just as the lame commercials ended & the trailers started. We talked a bit more and laughed, but she seemed a little uncomfortable.

We enjoyed the hell out of the movie. There were a few gross-out parts, and she cringed & covered her face.

Hot Fuzz finished up, and we beat the lines in the bathrooms. Going down the escalators, we checked our voice mails. I listened to her rambling message about how she was running late and laughed out loud at it. Union Square Park had a few artist booths that demanded exploration, so we did just that. After 40 minutes or so of this, her friend had called again. She called during the movie as well, which made her think that something was up. She called back, while I called Lyman to see what his plans were, as I wanted to see him & his family.

She looked at me apologetically and I told Lyman something had come up, and that I'd call him back.

Her friend is rather (emotionally) fragile, and had made a few mistakes in life, and shouldn't be left alone when feeling very depressed. She told me that she had to go take care of her so she didn't do something stupid. I nodded with understanding. We hugged, and she said "thank you. I'll call you for the show tonight."

I knew she wasn't coming back, and kinda felt like shit.

I walked down towards the Blue Note, and noticed that the sky was about to open up. I quickly bought an umbrella, as I'd left mine in the bar last night. This was just in time. While I was waiting in line, it began raining.

I found a nice pizza place near NYU and chilled for a while. The rain let up and I sat in Washington Square Park, and watched doggies stroll by.

Lyman called up and said that he'd be leaving the restaraunt shortly. He, Carrie & Milo were being treated to dinner by an old friend who was in the Blues Brothers movie (I've forgotten in what capacity, though). That's when I got the text message from the SALIT saying that her friend was is really bad shape and that she wouldn't be able to join me for Lyman's show. I told her that it was okay, that we'd get together again soon, thinking it probably wouldn't happen.

I stood on the corner and kept an eye out for the Medieros Trio. I finally had the honor of meeting the lovely Carrie & Milo. We went up to their hotel room and talked for a bit. As is customary, we talked trash about any and all CBRians not present. I got to hold Milo for a bit. I'll post the pic when I get it.

Lyman soon had to go over & prepare for the show, so we left Carrie (SuperMom) to her packing.

I got my seat in the club (woo-hoo, not having to pay $45 just to sit down rocks!) and looked at the menu. Lyman joined me at the table and we talked a bit more before the show. Then The Man came out & started mingling with the audience. Everyone else got on stage and opened with a nice instrumental tune. The vocallist got up, and belted out a few standards, told some stories, and basically hammed it up. Not my favorite thing, but he's good at what he does. Having Lyman contribute a few vocals on one song was nice, though. I love watching him play. I can tell that he's not quite as into it as he is when playing regular, hard-bop jazz. But hey, whatever "brings home the bacon."

After the show, I went up to the dressing room, showed Lyman what I've worked on for my book so far. Two of his band mates came in and ate dinner. I was introduced, and we talked for a few minutes. The keyboardist was Lyman's roommate the last time they were out, and L thought we had met before. I said, "no, I think he was asleep at the time."

"I do sleep a lot..."

Lyman said," You were passed out from that coked-up hooker."

"Maybe I was just looking for something to do," and he continued eating.

I said, "And a coked-up hooker isn't something to do?"

Dude cracked up, nearly choking on his food. He turned around and said, "okay, that was funny."

I walked Lyman to his hotel so he could get a few more minutes with his wife & son. A strong hug goodbye, and I was off. I walked up to Union Square, stopped into Virgin Records to use the bathroom, and got home at 11. I got online, visited CBR for a few minutes, shot off some emails, and crashed at midnight. I took a melatonin pill, as I was so tired that my eyes hurt. I woke up an hour late (11 AM) today, so I was that late for work as well.

And that's where I am, just about to depart.

I have not heard anything from the sculptor/jazz lover since I gave her my phone number early last week. Maybe she's too busy, maybe she's found someone. Either way, good luck to her.