|Her name is Rio and she shouldn't wear that thing
||[Apr. 15th, 2004|10:33 pm]
The American Caliban
trinnit was a good sport and hung out while I battled Perl and did some installs for the office. I went out for a short time to get my prescription refilled and do a couple of errands, and very narrowly avoided having an argument about Darwinism with the_friend. Whew. Pretty good day, today! I had to work but |
Made a good dinner: sautéed scallops, fried baby potatoes, and multicolor pepper salad. Then Pete and I went to D’s and he got a bit of the Experience as he had before. Not the full blast of the AA/NA crew tonight, just the nice gals who always sit together. Since he’s deaf he couldn’t hear the drunk bartender at the Napa blaring on about reality TV. Man, that guy is an advertisement for sobriety.
Apparently Sabrina, one of the baristas at D’s, fell off a 2 story building at a party when the handrail on the balcony decided not to be a handrail any more. She has some kind of back injury, poor woman.
I am intrigued by the epicene young man who works behind the counter and whose girlfriend? friend? sister? always sits at the bar. He is very beautiful in a preraphaelite maiden way and she is comfortably large with a nose ring, sort of porcine. She always wears an Insane Clown Posse shirt and a few candyraver items like beads, etc. I’ve seen him in full raver garb too. Is there some crossover between the rave kids and the ICP victims? Aside from being high all the time, I mean.
The cat loves her visitor, especially since he likes to playfight and skritch her.
But first: IRISH SUSHI!