One Step Forward, Twelve Steps Back

I went back to Sinni's last night.

There was beer pong.

Beer.

Pong.

I've never even seen it in real life before. It isn't pretty. And I had to walk right through it to get out the door. At least I managed without getting any on me.

Sheesh. Tuesday night must be special Old People night in Crazy Town or something.

I left after a hour, reeking of Axe Body Spray, drove to North Oxford and back in search of another place, then came back to Dad's and ate two bowls of Chocolate Frosted Mini Wheats instead. I don't know why I had to have the second bowl. I was in a kind of fugue state, I believe. From the cologne.

Today I have to go to the AssVac and deal with divorce-related Crap. I plan to walk on the beach when it's over to clear my head, but then I'm having sushi with my Stand Up friend -- who, in that way the universe has of handing you the entire pile of shit at the same time, was the lucky recipient of yet more bad news this week. I really feel like I ought to bunk up with her again, but the dog and cat are here at Dad's house, so I can't.

I will need a stiff drink when I get back to Oxford tonight, that's for sure. And after the Beer Pong incident, something tells me I'll be having it alone...

But!

I got my M-class learner's permit yesterday. That's "Motorcycle Class" for you non-Massachusetts residents out there. I'll write the whole story later -- maybe tonight when I'm drinking alone -- but the point for now is that on the way home from the RMV (that's "DMV" for you non-Massachusetts residents) I stopped at the Harley dealership in Auburn and bought myself a helmet, shades and gloves.

Maybe I'll practice wearing those around the house tonight while I'm drinking alone.

The gloves and goggles are easy, it's the helmet that's giving me lip. I keep putting it too far back on my head like it's a real hat, and the chin strap gets my fingers all confused.

But the Rock Star hair-shake when I take it off?

I've got that down.