2003-05-19 - 12:43 p.m.

That was a weird weekend. It all started Friday night. I had plans to meet the Roommate in Central for some eats and beer. Wicked psyched to get outta work, too. I had set everything up for the early Saturday shift, but at the last moment, I discovered something about the project that woulda farked everything up. So I stayed at work and tried to figure it out, and the network gets so slow after 11:00pm for some reason, and I got frustrated and had a little tantrum (I was by myself) and attacked my chair. My hand is still a little messed up.

The Roommate didn�t mind my being late so much, and we ate some tabouli (sp?) and stuffed grape leaves at the Middle East.

I was scheduled for the 2:00pm shift at work on Saturday, but I ended up coming in at 10:00 and working for eight hours. I was sooooo glad to get out, and my dear friend R. and I took the Red to Central again, where we ran into good �ol xmasface, and the three of us met up with the Roommate and Ertie and my dear friend S. (up from NYC) at the People�s Republic.

Couple quick PBRs, and the Roommate and S. and I headed to the Central YMCA to see the (ex) perform in Cabaret. And we ran into, and watched the play with, the (ex)� friends Ernie and Bert, who had come a long way to see the show.

All I�ll say about the play was that the (ex) was the best performer in the show--she was very, very good--and that watching her sing and act was a very difficult and necessary emotional experience for me. And that our intermission run back to the People�s Republic for a quick shot of Maker�s was very helpful.

After the performance was over, we all (the Roommate, S., Ernie and Bert, and myself) got some food and drink at Charlie�s. The fact that we were able to get a table was a mystery to me, and was also of much comfort. S. and I listened to Ernie�s wacky stories, and participated in the one-man conversation where necessary. I had gone on a smoke-run with S., and had confided in him that I always got a little intimidated by Ernie and his rapier-sharp wit. That I tended to say nothing for stretches, and would then realize that I hadn�t contributed anything for way too long, and would then typically blurt out something wicked stupid and would then really clam up after that. He told me

When you get to feeling like that, and you wanna say something just to say something... wait five minutes.

...which I found to be good advice.

I do not dislike Ernie, mind you. He�s funny, brilliant, and very quick. He is quite successful at being the person he is. He can be very warm to people, and extremely giving of himself. I knew him in college, and modeled myself after him a little when I was trying to weasel my way outta being the shy, weird guy with a long and ungainly ponytail, gigantic sweaters, and too-long Levis. It�s just that I�m a goddamn coward when it comes to my own emotional fragility (but less so every day), and taking witty and concise tongue lashings, direct hits, from Ernie, has more than once set me back months. I know it�s stupid, but I�m scared of him. I even asked the Roommate to nudge me if I fell for one of his traps. I even came up with an exit strategy, in case I got the nudge.

Anguish ended up meeting us at the bar, and we left shortly afterwards. For some reason, Ernie felt compelled to apologize for being a jackass to me over the years. I told him something like It�s cool--that�s just the way you are, and I did garble it a little. I�m going to give Ernie the benefit of the doubt and trust that he meant all or most of what he said--that it came from some place inside of him that is not governed by slickness, PR, and showmanship.

Anguish and Ernie kinda picked a fight with some wacky drunk punks when we got outside--there were three of �em. I really didn�t wanna be involved with that. Some people like to live on the knife�s edge. Yeah, that might be exciting, but I prefer the plastic handle with the perfectly good view. Anyway, within seconds, Ernie had the three kids laughing and conspiring with him. Amazing.

I did have a plan, by the way. If anything happened, I was gonna drag Ernie outta the donnybrook and get him the hell out. That was the plan. Pretty good plan, eh?

It turned out to be unnecessary, and shortly after we parted ways--S. and the Roommate and I took a cab home. I hung out with S. for a few before we all went to bed.

When I woke up the next day, I felt excellent. Which immediately signaled to me that something was horribly, horribly wrong. I had gotten a good night�s sleep, which meant it must have been later than 11:00am. Work! I had to go to work! Fuck! And then I realized that it was my day off. Man o man, that put me in a good mood for the next few hours.

The three of us took turns drinking coffee and getting ready. Got Dunkie�s in Union, hit the kitch store and ab fab in Inman (we usually get recognized in both stores, which is neat), got an uncomfortable beer at the Abbey (I don�t recommend going there during the day), and then walked to Harvard, where we said our goodbyes to S.

Just for the hell of it, the Roommate and I hit Urbans, where I bought a beautiful rug for my room. Walked to Central (for the third day in a row) and got some picture frames at Pearl, and picked up some grub at the Harvest. We had some time to kill before the 91 came, so I got us some more coffee at evil starbucks. Why not?

I had finally remembered to bring my dorky pedometer. We had walked a total of five miles. Cool, eh? Got home, took care of the rug, hung said picture frames (with pictures inside of �em), drank some beers, watched the Simpsons and Malcom, ploabed it up a little, and went to bed.

I woke up today at 9:00am, and I don�t gotta be at work �till 3:00pm. Played on Homestar Runner, drank some coffee, and I still got time to walk to Davis. My weekend doesn�t end �till I get to work.