2004-08-11 - 11:42 a.m.
A Weekend of Uneventful Weekend Events in III Parts [Part I]
FRIDAY NIGHT
Cher, Max’s sister Sissy, and I met Brenda and her new boyfriend after work. Brenda works with Joey, and she’s one of the many people he’s told about the eating disorder that he’s invented for me. Brenda said she wants to make sure I eat, and we’ve made lunch plans several times, but she’s flaked on every one. If I waited for her, I’d starve to death for sure. So, we met Brenda and Jim at a bar where everyone had a couple of drinks (I had water, of course) before we went to First Fridays at the Museum of Contemporary Art. I was psyched all week because I invented a character to mock the characters who make up the usual First Fridays crowd. The character I invented is supposed to be this totally cheesy throwback to the 1970s playboy. His presence alone is supposed to be insulting. Anyway, I’m wearing these blue bell bottoms that have tiny fish in a sort of moiré pattern and that lace up the front and a cowboy hat. I opted out of the fake mustache that I’d worn all day at work. Unfortunately, the look didn’t say “Retro Playboy” as much as it did, “Midnight Cowboy”—a fact that was obvious as Cher and Sissy pointed out the two guys who were checking me out as we crossed a street. [Note to self: Work on cheesy guy persona.]
Hadn’t been to First Fridays in a while, and Joey and Max are the guys I usually go with (mostly Joey). Unfortunately for us, Joey and the Mrs. were going to a play that night. An evening at the MCA with Joey fucking rawks. He usually has a few (okay, six) pints before we go to the museum and, once there, the South Side in him comes out. There was the time that he totally messed up Max’s chances with two models. There was the time that by the end of the night, the only words I could understand from him were bitch, fuck, and fucking bitch. The museum usually has a sort of food theme, and I can always count on Joey to go to the table for seconds, thirds, and, at the very least, fourths. God, I love dat guy!
Anyway, no Joey meant no fun. The food was totally random and pretty much sucked. Cher was looking forward to seeing her favorite Francis Bacon piece, but they’d changed the collection. No Bacon. No Magritte. They did have a couple of Andres Serrano photos. Cher was happy that they had her favorite Cindy Sherman. But as I told her, the phrase contemporary art is a euphemism for shit.
So the evening ended, and Cher and I were exhausted. Back to the office to change and get our bikes, and then it was home. The usual fortyish minute ride took about two hours.
SATURDAY
Saturday was uneventful in a good way. Cher and I met Joey, the Mrs., her friend Effie, and Joey’s pal Ron at a bar. We would soon be on our way to Northalsted Street Market Days, a sort of giant block party that’s held in the predominantly gay north side neighborhood. At the bar, we talked about last year’s Market Days, where Joey claims I messed up his ankle. So Joey retold the story for about the nine-hundredth-million time, and he and I re-enacted the scene to everyone’s delight. Left the bar and hit the streets. The people watching was pretty disappointing. Cher and I looked for cute girls and guys, but we really couldn’t find any. Cher said that all the girls I pointed out looked too high maintenance. The guys? Forget about it. There seemed to be an extreme in types. They were either big and scary or totally fey.
Much drinking was done and not much in the way of arts and crafts was purchased. Joey bought some lavender powder [wuss boy!] and actually contemplated buying two pastel drawings of the cast of the Sopranos to decorate his place. He was totally serious!!! We all discussed going to Hydrate, but Ron turned into super ‘phobe and Joey tends to be a sheep where Ron is concerned. Joey’s little Mrs., however, said she’d always wanted to go there, so we were off. We got to the door and they thought it was too crowded so they went back to the bar where we began our evening. Cher and I went in and found that it wasn’t too crowded at all. We danced for a while and decided to go find the others. Effie had called it a night by the time we got back, but the others were still at the bar. Beers were had and we decided to call it a night. Tired and sore, Cher and I very slowly rode home.
