ggggiggggggglingggggg

i had a craving for a margarita. a blended margarita. i went out for drinks with a friend after work one night and couldn't get a blended margarita. i got saddled with one on the rocks. i asked the bartender to blend it, and true dairy queen style he puts the cup under the malt mixer thing and froths it. (after sparing the dry lime that came with the drink), he walks back over and replaces said lime on the rim of my cup and hands me a frothed margarita.

what are the odds he'll spit in it if i send it back again?

pretty good.

so i drank my margarita on the rocks, but when my friend paid, i said,

i will take you somewhere i can get a real margarita.

bartender doesn't care. he avoided the blender for some reason unknown to me. but this margarita plagued me, as do all things i am denied. i want them, and pursue them like a chunk of cheese on a trap. i'll find a way to outwit the trap or die trying.

anyway,

top shelf,

my friend keeps saying.

i have no clue what top shelf is. i tasted it when it arrived, and wowza.

she explained to me the meaning of what she requested and i said,

i'm used to bottom shelf, i guess.

but it hit me like i'd never had a drink before. and since i'd eaten not much that day, and not recently, the booze made me giggle like a schoolgirl.

i wasn't going to be a lowsy drunk, but it was not up to me. she set me up but good.

so i order a fruit plate, they confiscate the last eighth of my drink (i got ripped off a partial margarita folks), and a strawberry lands on my chest.

the girls were on display and this was met with much laughter.

we were at a mexican restaurant so i kept saying,

i eat with my hands folks.

and the guest i'm supposed to meet is sitting there, i bite half a pineapple and hand him the other half.

i'm weird, what can i say.

he takes it and smiles.

same thing for the papaya.

i don't know how it is supposed to work, but i expected people who wanted something to reach over and get it. might have ate the entire fruit plate, with this amazing avocado, i basically made love to the appetizer and i don't get there often. food being the non-event that it is.

let's just say, i ate well. a lot. my friend kept saying,

it's so good to see you eat.

she always sees me eat because she has the best damn leftovers since my grams. i go over her house and she feeds me persian dishes, sometimes mexican. they always rock.

she sees me eat a lot.

but i sobered up after the meal and was able to drive my pony home. or at least to their home, where the drinking resumed and i crashed in their guest room.

i'm a lowsy drunk apparently. or they care too much to let me drive away like that.

either way, there i slept.

she danced me to exhaustion, and i told her,

i do things with you that i only do alone at home.

because there was a party going on, but we were having a belly dance class right there in her living room. her hips do things i only wish mine could. i told her,

yours do so much more than mine.

yours are doing the same thing mine are,

she says,

i just have bent knees and don't collapse into the move.

i have this habit of carrying myself poorly while i'm dancing. not at class because i'm focusing on it. but i like my hair to cover me and hide me a bit. yes, i confess, i'm hiding.

the dark lord is in sight and i attempt to understand the lure, the draw, the reason. i don't really get it. but i get that it's where i'm at. i'm fine with it. have fun, remember, that is what it's about.

there are a lot of things going on in my mind right now. it's awash with ideas, images, dreams. some of them likely to take place, most of them to the average person, unattainable, but i've never been average. i've never limited myself and i don't advise those who listen to what i have to say to do that either. go for it. why the hell not.

we're not getting any younger, not guaranteed tomorrow. all that bullshit. amen.