Free Mojo
I'm going to try to corral some of the birthday thoughts, partially for documentation and partially because it was a great weekend. However, it's also 12:30 on Monday morning and I have a FULL day tomorrow. So let's try to stick to the relevant basics.
Friday afternoon I took part in a work happy hour in a seedy location. It was actually a really good transition from Vegas because it was still boozy and trashy, but I was with co-workers and discussing professional subjects. Under normal circumstances that would've been a little too much, but it was a great way to start the birthday festivities and get my mind back to even.
Saturday was pretty laid-back until Sean picked me up at 6 to head into the city. He bought me a Patton Oswalt ticket for my birthday (at the Warner Theatre). I might have overdressed a little, but I think I looked killer good. I rocked new Ralph Lauren shoes and the jeans that have actually made me exclaim my love for them. It was a little embarrassing because I thought I said it in my head, but it actually came out audibly and Stephanie caught me. So what, I looked great.
After the hilarious show, we went down to a place called Harry's for a drink. I had been jonesin' for a Stoli vanilla and Coke while in Vegas and no one could make one for me. I admit, it's a little bit girly but don't knock it til you try it. Harry's scratched the itch. The bartender was adorable and playful so I tried to encourage Sean to make pleasant conversation. He didn't take the bait but she kept hanging out with us, somewhat to the annoyance of other customers. I decided I had to take this one on myself and, after creating good cross-conversation between all 3 of us, asked for her number and clearly handed it to Sean. I tasked him with the responsibility of following up. I think this is still in-bounds for a married man to do. I figure since I don't have her contact info, I didn't do anything wrong...I was just helping the helpless.
Alright, so of course I have to ruin anything nice that I do. While at Harry's, Sean gets a text from the girl he likes (they're friends from back home in Delaware) and it turns out she's just a few blocks away. While my DC geography is pretty weak, it just so happens to be a place right around the corner from Steph's office AND I know how to get there from our location. So we go meet up with this girl and...I proceed to be the worst wingman ever. Now granted, being a terrible wingman is how I wound up with my wife, so I don't mean to make this sound like it's a bad thing for me. I spent most of the evening dominating conversation, using some of the old tricks and closing the evening where Sean should have. Maybe I can justify it as a learning experience for him? Technically it's not a wingman position since I didn't have anyone to block...I was more like a third wheel that improved the performance of the bicycle.
Today was great, too. Started the day with coffee, bagel and paper which is pretty much my dream scenario. Went to a high-end Chinese buffet (yes, they exist) for lunch. Was able to take a nap in the afternoon (rare for me). Went to the Crosby, Stills and Nash/Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers concert in the evening. A couple quick things to note: CSN are showing their age. Stephen Stills looked like IT middle management and David Crosby just keeps getting bigger. Crosby can't hit the notes he used to and so they pretty much avoided harmonies altogether.
As far as Petty goes, his crowd still smokes a TON of pot. When Steph notices the smell, it's obvious that it's potent in the air. Also, I dance like my dad. Or at least, I dance like my dad used to when I was Alexa's age (and up until recently, I guess). Come to think of it, my outfit and hair last night were reminiscent of him, too. Frankly, I wouldn't mind becoming him so long as I can avoid the same self-destruction that leads to self-nullification. Not to get too graphic, but he felt like he screwed up enough that he (proverbially) cut his own balls off to calm down. Anyway, I also experienced the tremendous frustration that is driving to live music arenas (someone has to start using a little planning when they build these things) and got to eat arguably my favorite dessert (banana pudding with sliced banana and Nila Wafers served really really cold).
I'm not at all scared of 28. It's not an odd number like 27, doesn't carry and of the scariness of 29 or 30 and the next 12 months looks like it'll probably be really good. I think this is probably the happiest I've been with a birthday in a long time. I just hope this work week doesn't kill my wood. If I can get a good social outing with Jason in (had a great 10 minute conversation with him today while I was waiting in traffic to park), I think I'll probably be able to stay level.
Friday afternoon I took part in a work happy hour in a seedy location. It was actually a really good transition from Vegas because it was still boozy and trashy, but I was with co-workers and discussing professional subjects. Under normal circumstances that would've been a little too much, but it was a great way to start the birthday festivities and get my mind back to even.
Saturday was pretty laid-back until Sean picked me up at 6 to head into the city. He bought me a Patton Oswalt ticket for my birthday (at the Warner Theatre). I might have overdressed a little, but I think I looked killer good. I rocked new Ralph Lauren shoes and the jeans that have actually made me exclaim my love for them. It was a little embarrassing because I thought I said it in my head, but it actually came out audibly and Stephanie caught me. So what, I looked great.
After the hilarious show, we went down to a place called Harry's for a drink. I had been jonesin' for a Stoli vanilla and Coke while in Vegas and no one could make one for me. I admit, it's a little bit girly but don't knock it til you try it. Harry's scratched the itch. The bartender was adorable and playful so I tried to encourage Sean to make pleasant conversation. He didn't take the bait but she kept hanging out with us, somewhat to the annoyance of other customers. I decided I had to take this one on myself and, after creating good cross-conversation between all 3 of us, asked for her number and clearly handed it to Sean. I tasked him with the responsibility of following up. I think this is still in-bounds for a married man to do. I figure since I don't have her contact info, I didn't do anything wrong...I was just helping the helpless.
Alright, so of course I have to ruin anything nice that I do. While at Harry's, Sean gets a text from the girl he likes (they're friends from back home in Delaware) and it turns out she's just a few blocks away. While my DC geography is pretty weak, it just so happens to be a place right around the corner from Steph's office AND I know how to get there from our location. So we go meet up with this girl and...I proceed to be the worst wingman ever. Now granted, being a terrible wingman is how I wound up with my wife, so I don't mean to make this sound like it's a bad thing for me. I spent most of the evening dominating conversation, using some of the old tricks and closing the evening where Sean should have. Maybe I can justify it as a learning experience for him? Technically it's not a wingman position since I didn't have anyone to block...I was more like a third wheel that improved the performance of the bicycle.
Today was great, too. Started the day with coffee, bagel and paper which is pretty much my dream scenario. Went to a high-end Chinese buffet (yes, they exist) for lunch. Was able to take a nap in the afternoon (rare for me). Went to the Crosby, Stills and Nash/Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers concert in the evening. A couple quick things to note: CSN are showing their age. Stephen Stills looked like IT middle management and David Crosby just keeps getting bigger. Crosby can't hit the notes he used to and so they pretty much avoided harmonies altogether.
As far as Petty goes, his crowd still smokes a TON of pot. When Steph notices the smell, it's obvious that it's potent in the air. Also, I dance like my dad. Or at least, I dance like my dad used to when I was Alexa's age (and up until recently, I guess). Come to think of it, my outfit and hair last night were reminiscent of him, too. Frankly, I wouldn't mind becoming him so long as I can avoid the same self-destruction that leads to self-nullification. Not to get too graphic, but he felt like he screwed up enough that he (proverbially) cut his own balls off to calm down. Anyway, I also experienced the tremendous frustration that is driving to live music arenas (someone has to start using a little planning when they build these things) and got to eat arguably my favorite dessert (banana pudding with sliced banana and Nila Wafers served really really cold).
I'm not at all scared of 28. It's not an odd number like 27, doesn't carry and of the scariness of 29 or 30 and the next 12 months looks like it'll probably be really good. I think this is probably the happiest I've been with a birthday in a long time. I just hope this work week doesn't kill my wood. If I can get a good social outing with Jason in (had a great 10 minute conversation with him today while I was waiting in traffic to park), I think I'll probably be able to stay level.