Channeling Behan... and Shocking Kisses.

Sometimes I even shock myself. There's little explanation to it and I'm past the point of trying to figure it out, but Thursday afternoon was a great case in point.

So, I piss off early from work. I try and figure out what I'm gonna do with a few spare hours, so of course, I think 'the bar'. Now, I haven't drank in about a month, which is a long time for me, seriously. I walk into this 'theme' pub which isn't theme pub I'm always talking about. I'm greeted by the waitress and some dude at the bar who introduces himself and has me sit by him. I'm only figuring to have maybe 2 pints of Guinness and watch the Manchester City match, right? Well, your man had OTHER plans. He insisted I sit there and get hammered with him at 1 in the afternoon. So... I did.

I drank about 6 or 7 pints and paid all of $5 since he insisted on buying all the rounds whilst unmercifully downing Michelobs. The owner of the place stood us a round as well somewhere in the middle of all that. I really didn't get hammered though. He sure as shit did though! He was stumbling all over the place by about 4pm.

During the proceedings, I made the remark that I liked to write, so I was tasked to write a piece... and I obliged, feeling like Brendan Behan or something, head down, scribbling lines at the bar with a lovely pint of Guinness in front of me. The bartender was truly impressed with the shite I eventually produced and I have to admit, it wasn't half bad considering the constant repetitious chattering of my patron sitting next to me, going on and on about high school days... reminding me FAR too much of Al Bundy. I mean, fuckin' hell... I HATED high school and here he was acting as if it was the highlight of his life, which sadly, it probably was.

I find all that talk about 'when I played football in high school' just a bit sad. I don't mean to be judgemental either, but honestly, it bores fuck out of me. Was I a jock? No. And that's probably why I'm not interested. Still and all, I don't care to talk about ANYthing from those days. I found high school tedious and boring; a complete waste of time spent amongst wankers and awkward tossers. I wasn't cool or anything either by ANY stretch! I just didn't give a fuck. I did my own thing and that was that. I was always comfortable with the fact that it would one day end and mean fuck all in the whole scheme of things.

ANYway... Your man was showing a bit of concern for your humble ranconteur. He was worried if I'd had something to eat (I hadn't) and where I was going or what I was doing later. He asked me what 'we' were going to do next. Mmmm... I wasn't aware we were on a fucking date. I was there, 'I'm gonna hang out and have another pint here.' Well, I'll be damned if this bloke doesn't go and kiss me as he's leaving. Yeah. Read THAT again. I was reminded of that scene in 'American Beauty' where Lester is 'confronted' by the bad-ass Marine from next door in the garage during that rain storm. All afternoon I get to hear about how tough he is and how nobody is gonna mess with me... Mess with ME? There were like five other people there anyway and none of them seemed overly dangerous to me. So, he's playing up this protective role or something... maybe he's seen too many prison films... and I'm just nodding, lapping it up, cos after all, he IS buying the rounds, isn't he?! Then he goes and kisses me! On the cheek too, don't get the wrong idea here. So... if anyone has a clue what THAT was all about PLEASE let me know!

Regardless, I did enjoy writing at the bar with a pint as a companion. That was grand. I'll have to do that again sometime. Sans Al Bundy though, innit.