I went out to dinner with Jordan Baker and Megarita (who's in town for a couple of weeks) and I am once again confronted by the fact that I am not naturally funny. Witty? Sometimes. But I am not funny and witty to the 10th power! Not like these gals are. I'm sure the Hendricks and tonics and Hendricks martinis helped, but damn, I've not laughed so hard in a while. I was even a little funny. A little.
I am, however, awesome at eating a burger (with shared fries and onion rings) at Good Stuff Eatery in Capitol Hill and then topping it off with a large gin and tonic (at a bar called the Ugly Mug no less) and wait for it...wait for it... a dessert called 'Peanut Butter Panic.' Okay, so I know in my heart of hearts that gin and peanut butter ice cream cake are not supposed to go together, but I was with friends, and damn it, friends let you make wacko dessert choices and once you've told them it's not poisonous, they then choose to eat it with you.
I had some really strange dreams as a result of that food and drink combination. In one dream, I got into a mortal combat style fight with the creepy guy who works at the Tivoli Giant. It was awful.
He chased me through this house and down a tree lined street and then I just turned around and started hand to hand combat with him. I threw punches and I kicked him several times. Then he tried to shoot me! The nerve! Fortunately, I had some kind of hand held rapid fire weapon. I shot him in the shoulder and kneecaps. And I didn't even feel bad. Then I kicked him one more time and walked away. (Therapy is calling me.)
The kicker? I saw him today while I was taking my groceries out of the store and he asked me if I needed help. Needless to say, I ran out of there.
It was a great way to make up for a week in which I wanted to either quit my job or hurl expletives at students.
And I still believe that I am wasting my education at work, but I don't waste it with my friends. I have to use every ounce of smartness and sass I have just to keep up. Just thought I'd add that.