Paul meets a sex worker at the Yale

I light a candle for Mike who had dental surgery recently and is feeling quite icky from all accounts… he’s not well enough to call himself so I’m glad Toribird gave me an update.

Learned that Paul not only went out drinking last night he PUB CRAWLED. Started at the Anza and ended up at the Yale, which is not actually a bad crawl for two middle aged men. While they were attempting to enjoy the show at the Yale, a prostitute accosted Mike J and Paul. She offered oral satisfaction for the princely sum of $20. Hey, I said, that’s only two hits of rock. And she demanded drinks and smokes. Paul was so grossed out when he was describing it that his voice kept trailing off and he kept shaking his head like a parrot that’s just eaten a garlic clove, thinking it was an almond. I don’t know what offended him more, the notion of paying for it, her general level of unattractiveness (Paul was too polite to give details and I was too spellbound by this glimpse into seediness to ask), or the idea that he looked like a prospect. He was still shuddering and making ick noises even today, which is pretty funny when you think about it. I love the men in my life. They are so very cool, and so very unpretentious.

My laptop at work finally died. CPU crapped out. (After 6 years it didn’t owe us anything). But, and this is probably an apocalyptic sign, it came back to life just long enough for me to back up my data, before it expired one last time as I was trying to put in an order. Moved over one pod and kept working. It’s weird how you get used to one particular desktop and get antsy if you don’t have it any more.

Katie was supposed to come home and do homework… growl. She is, instead, ensconced with her BF. Paul and I cooked a nice big meal… Keith turned his nose up at it and Katie didn’t come home. Grouse, whine. At least I know where she is.

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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

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