*Another Nadas song for you.** Don’t scratch your head too hard – Matt (my boss) told me that they’re known as “the best college band you’ve never heard of.” Except that they’re probably not in college anymore because they’ve been around at least a decade. Anyway, I like them. Matt has borrowed lent me several of their CDs and I have enjoyed them. Like Barenaked Ladies, there are two lead singers, both male, and I am getting to be able to recognize who is singing what on the different songs. Unlike BNL, I don’t know their names yet or haven’t seen them in concert but someday soon?

**I was going to use Hold On but I can’t find a decent lyrics website that has it already formatted. I hate formatting lyrics. Hold On is a good song as well but mainly I liked it for the fact that some people are overly excited about the fact that I have not yet finished the karaoke escapades from Sunday, particularly the Gil portion of the evening. To which I reply, it has been very busy at work lately and I have not had that much time to write anything. I am sorry about this but this is not my fault – there are several lawsuits taking place and a major merger (which is fun to say) and suffice to say, I’m going just a tad insane.

First, we interrupt our regularly scheduled program of karaoke recaps to bring you this message of whining – What is wrong with my blog? I can’t get the sidebar to show up properly, no matter what I do! ARGH! Beth, can you fix it? It’s driving me nuts!

Anyway, here is the rest of the evening. If you haven’t read the previous post, none of this will make any sense of you so you should stop and do that right now. Here is Beth’s post with exciting pictures. Here is my post with no exciting pictures but it includes how I almost got into a bar fight (well, actually, I left off in the middle of that). Suffice to say, this person called Bryan a bad name and I was irritated.

Tacky Pink Sweater Girl (now known as Tacky) walking past our table): F*ckin’ c*ocks*ckr!
DM (Me!): Who was she talking about?
B (Beth!): Bryan. The guys were making vomiting sounds when the drunken girls walked by to the bathroom. So she’s blaming Bryan. The idiot (or something to this nature, I’m not the best at remembering what people say).
DM: What? That’s stupid!
B: I know! She’s dumb.
DM: Listen, Bitch (in direction of Tacky)!
Tacky: Shut up, you bitches (or Oh, you bitches. Not sure. But we were called bitches).
DM: No one talks about Bryan like that. Unless it’s us. That’s okay (because we’re joking).

Fortunately, Tacky did not decide to challenge me. Fortunately for her. I was enraged and hadn’t even been drinking so you know I would have trounced her ass. Since she couldn’t even stand up straight, I don’t think she would have been much of a challenge.

Stephanie was there. She was amused by my annoyance with the drunken women as well. Beth, Stephanie and I were wondering what these people were doing in our bar. We are used to our nice, quiet Sundays where we can sing lots of songs and have great conversations and not feeling like walking from one end of the bar to the other could become dangerous with all the flailing o’ the arms and legs in an attempt to dance.

Some guy sat down at our table, probably in an attempt to flirt with Angie. Angie sells Avon (which makes me happy – pretty girly stuff for me to wear and I’m supporting a friend as well) and she had several bags on the table with our orders. This guy was attractive but kind of stupid. Unless he was pretending to be stupid to make conversation. Because that’s not annoying at all and ever so sexy. I have put what I think we were thinking in italics.

Stupid Guy (SG): What’s in the bag (Picks up bag and looks at it where it clearly states Avon on the front)?
Angie: Avon.
SG: Why?
Angie: Because I sell it.
SG: What do you sell?
Angie: Avon (she picks up the bag and shows it to him).
SG: I don’t understand.
Angie: I sell Avon. People buy it from me. You are a complete idiot.
SG: You are not fawning over me. How is this possible? Do you not see my chiseled jaw? My flashing eyes? I am going to ignore you now in favor of this woman here. This will make you jealous and want me madly (Turns to me). What are you writing?
DM (I just recently received a new organizer and was writing my karaoke list in it. This will hopefully remind me I have the organizer so I am not mocked about my lack of organizational skills (actually I am mocked more for the fact that I am addicted to organizers but then never use them (usually because I lose them))): My karaoke list (I was on page 2 or 3).
SG: Are you going to sing all of these songs tonight?
DM: Yes. Because this isn’t really karaoke. No, it’s the Dana Vittum show. And you will all watch and listen to me sing and pay great amounts of money to buy my CDs. No. These are just songs I have sung in the past and will sing again.
SG: Oh.

He then begins to ask questions about different singers, are there songs by these singers in the book. I am completely not interested in him and so pay little to none attention to him (he may have a chiseled jaw but he doesn’t have half of Gil’s charm), other than to reply yes or no when he asks about a certain singer.

SG: Do they have Maroon 5?
DM: Yes. They have She Will Be Loved.
SG: Are you going to sing it with me?
DM: No. It’s not a duet.
SG: So? You should sing it with me.
DM: It’s too high for me.
SG: I’m going to write it down.

He stands up and grabs my pen out of my hand. My pen. My beautiful, beautiful Dr. Grip pen that I get very panicky about if it is missing. Because I can’t use thinner pens due to my carpal tunnel.

B: Well, that was rude.
Angie: Yeah.
SG: Oh, I have the attention of another woman. Let me flash my patented smile o’charm at you and then you will forgive me all my transgressions. I just did it as a joke. Here, I’ll give it back.

He then slides the pen into my hand, into the open spot between the thumb and forefinger, left empty by his brutal act of pen thievery. Then, obviously thinking that he’s such a hottie that this will turn us all on, he slides the pen in and out in an obvious interpretation of intercourse. I quickly grasp the pen and return to my list, after rolling my eyes at Beth and Angie.

Suddenly, one of the drunk girls (not Tacky, this one would be the one that looked like she shopped at Abercrombie & Fitch in the boys department) threw herself into his lap. This knocked him into me and almost ended up spilling our drinks. This group is really starting to annoy us. In fact, Stephanie decided to leave because of the general rowdiness of the evening. She tells us we are much braver than her and leaves.

Becky was there. Nate has not yet come to his senses and begged for forgiveness. In fact, when she had been talking to him about the break up, he finally admitted that he had been lying when he said there was no one else. No, apparently (and I’m taking this with a grain of salt because I admit to being a bit cynical) there is a woman who goes to the bar he works at that he is interested in dating. Nothing has happened between them (yeah, right). Since he was confused about these feelings and was having them even when he was thinking of marrying Becky, he figured it would be better to just dump her and start dating a complete unknown, thus ending a 3 year relationship. How brilliant.

Since I am a) somewhat cynical and b) somewhat a bitch (just ask Tacky pink sweater girl) and c) the type of person who does not censor what she says (I think it, I say it. I’m not known for my subtlety), I was somewhat displeased with this news. There was the gnashing of teeth and the saying of “Sacana” and “Rat bastard” and “That jackass” and my personal favorite, “He’s bald.”

DM (not sure why I said it but I did so we’ll start here): Look. There comes a time when you just have to say “Dude, just shave it off already.”
Becky: Nate shaves his head.
DM: No. He shaves it half way. That doesn’t count. His hairline is in the middle of his head. That’s not attractive.
B: Well, some men don’t look good with shaved heads. Like (insert name of really nice guy).
DM: Yeah, well, (really nice guy) has a great personality so his hair doesn’t matter.
B: That’s true.
DM (back to Becky): You deserve a man with hair. Good hair.
Becky (to Angie and Beth): I love her.
Angie: Yeah, I do too.

So, yes, I’m somewhat cynical and somewhat a bitch and somewhat not good at keeping my mouth shut but I’m also somewhat loveable. Becky did, on several occasions, thank me for keeping her laughing. Which was my secret plan. If she is laughing, she is not thinking about what a wanker Nate is (well, she was but it at least kept her from crying).

Okay and now for what you have all been clamoring for – the Gil stories.

He was there. He sat next to me. He is so effing hot it drives me crazy.

At one point, his knee moved over next to mine. And he moved it several times. Was he playing “kneesie” with me? I don’t know.

Thanks to my roommate, Jeff, I have now learned to appreciate forearms. I never thought that this was a particularly attractive body part before but Jeff and I will watch TV and he’ll say “Oh, look at that guy’s forearms! Aren’t they great? (Jeff, by the way, is gay, just in case you hadn’t figured that out)” Gil was leaning forward, his sleeves of his sweater pushed up to his elbows and his forearms were somewhat rippling and muscular and hairy and oh, my God, I need to change the subject.

He lit my cigarette. With his incredibly cool Zippo lighter. I got to touch his hand. It was a moment.

When we were talking to Becky about what happened with Nate (Liz found out when she asked “So where’s your guy?” Oops), Liz was telling us her theory that women are evil and men are stupid (there is both good and bad evil. We (Beth, Becky, Liz, myself) are all good evil. Tacky pink sweater girl is probably bad evil. Or maybe just tacky evil. We all turn and look at Gil. I touch his shoulder briefly and tell him he is not stupid. We all laugh.

When he was leaving, he put his hand on my shoulder and told me to have a great night, looking into my eyes with his glorious beautiful eyes. He kind of waved goodbye to everyone else.

Liz was talking about the fact that he is kind of in his own world and likes his life the way it is and when she asked him if he saw himself ever getting married a few weeks ago, he said he wasn’t sure. So she suggested that he might, oh, try dating someone or maybe paying attention when women flirt with him. She kind of gave me the indication that holding my breath, expecting him to change was not going to happen because he only really cares about movies and his own world and his friends.

But the whole thing is, this is the person that I have fallen into like with. I don’t want him to change. I like the fact that he totally gets into movies and comics and thinks a major movie mogul is evil. It doesn’t bother me that he has no qualms about certain bad habits that he has that he will easily do in public (this includes but is not limited to biting his nails and then spitting said nail out (which, yeah, is kind of gross but I bite my nails and swallow the nail so that’s kind of gross as well)) without embarrassment. I like him. For who he is. I like his friends (those that I know). I love watching how passionate he gets about things. I like it when he mocks me for liking movies he doesn’t. I completely and totally adore him.

If nothing happens between us, fine, I’ll live with it. As long as we are still friends, I think I can handle just about anything. But you know what, he is stupid. Why does he not know that we are perfect for each other? Why?

Beth has a theory that maybe what Liz said to him kind of sunk in because the last few weeks, he’s been more flirtatious. Maybe, in our own, pathetic, slow way, we are learning to flirt with each other. Maybe, when we are in our eighties, something will finally happen between us. I don’t know. But I’m looking forward to seeing him again. Maybe I’ll just wear a lot of mistletoe on Christmas.

Sorry this took so long, it has been very busy at work. I ended up using my bonus hour of time off tonight to post this. Don’t you all feel very special?

Carve Your Name – The Nadas

Carve your name next to mine, in a wood stump with a jack knife
Cross the”T” and dot your “I”, carve your name next to mine
Made my mark and left my name, maybe you could do the same
Grooves on a window pane, made my mark and left my name
Won’t you stand next to me, and tell me who you want me to be
Only your eyes can see, won’t you stand next me

Carve your name next to mine, in a wood stump with a jack knife
Cross your “T” and dot your “I”, carve your name next to mine

So I press the ink to skin, hopping you would let me in
Well it may have been a sin, but I press the ink to skin
Now everyone can see that you’re a part of me
Almost like a guarantee, that everyone can see
And the years roll by, and soon I’ll surely die
Baby don’t let me lie alone, let me carve your name in stone

Carve your name next to mine, in a wood stump with a jack knife
Cross the “T” and dot your “I”, carve your name next to mine
Carve your name next to mine, in a wood stump with a jack knife
Cross the “T” and dot your “I”, carve your name next to mine
Carve your name next to mine, Carve your name next to mine
Carve your name next to mine, Carve your name next to mine