The chirashi was decent, and I was secure enough in my own manhood to order a Diva martini, it being martini night. Yeah, one of those martinis that mrfantasy and I agree really shouldn't be named martini. It was some chocolate and other liquor concoction, with a rose petal on top. Tasty, and different. But not a martini.
aaronkliger had a hellish driving experience, fighting through trucks and congestion and looping back around the NYC area to finally join us hours later, exhausted and with a tight schedule of having to get up early in the morning. We headed out to a local bar, and had one drink there at least, while catching up.
It was good to hear the update on Marty's love life, living situation, and academic acomplishments. Got him caught up in the lives of the people left in drewuniversity and Jersey in general.
While I missed him, I didn't miss his driving.
He was joking around as we walked about Hoboken from one place to the other, that he had a theory about the difference between the 20th century and the 21st century. In the former, if you talked to yourself you were crazy. In the latter, if you weren't talking to yourself you were crazy.
Which reminds me about my time in the laundromat the night before that, the crazy lumberjack lady. The complex I live in has washer/driers, but you're not supposed to use them late, and they seem to always be in use. So after a few days of no luck, I decided to suck it up and use the local Village Laundry place in downtown Rockaway Borough. As usual, a variety of locals came in and out through the night. The lady who seemed to have started slightly before me and ended after me was dressed in an odd yellow baseball cap, thick flannel jacket, sweatpants (one leg rolled up), boots, and a grey t-shirt. At first, I thought she was on a cell phone, as I heard her angrily speaking softly. I noticed there was no cell phone, and tried to hope that she had been using the pay phone. As she started speaking into the driers, I gave up that hope. She spent most of the night angrily mumbling to various inanimate objects, including the door a couple of times she and I crossed paths. While I sat in my car listening to Ron and Fez and eating an egg salad wrap, she stared at me.
As I drove back home last night, after giving the cable-less windexcowboy a ride home, Rollins was on LoveLines, so I immediately had to give ogun a call. Hank was promoting some new show on TLC he was co-hosting, where various teams from around the world built vehicles.
Must go, Creek night.