Where to Pick Up?

So normally, I would pick up where I left of posting, but I don’t remember where that was. I could check, but then I’d have to actually remember what I’ve done since, which is mostly work, writing, spending time with Paul, and unwinding on occasion. I had the time to blog most of this week and I read two days this week, which is a big deal for me. That rarely happens. I unfortunately sometimes go weeks without touching the stack of books by my nightstand. Same goes for lots of other things–I don’t get to them unless I spend a whole weekend at my apartment with no one else here, which almost never happens. I haven’t played guitar in months, I don’t normally get to play X-Box, and watching Netflix is not as uncommon as reading but uncommon enough.

So other than work and writing and ignoring how messy my apartment is…

I had a nice Friday night in last week, which I’ve come to love because I get the most done. By Friday, most editing things have been taken care of, so I have time to play IYS catch-up where I can crank out some news pieces for us or update our lists of desired show reviews and interviews. I can even clean, and I did, even though the empty Smirnoff and beer bottles and random objects scattered around suggest otherwise.

Brandon, Kelly, and Paul came over Saturday. Poor Paul is still on night shift, and Brandon wanted to be here so damn early in the late morning/early afternoon that he never got a chance to…until he completely crashed in the car.

They brought over a purse and wristlet I bought from a Thirty-One party Leah had a few weeks ago. The bag is much bigger than I realized, but I do really like it, and I’ve desperately needed a wristlet but hated al the other ones I saw until this one. I’m picky. Paul also brought me black-raspberry chocolates since they met Leah at her family’s candy store, which I may or may not have suggested everyone tell him to do. Unfortunately, they taste a bit too flowery. Will I still eat them? Hell yes.

We hung out for a little bit then went to dinner at Max & Erma’s together. A few weeks ago, Brandon and Kelly went with me Chelsea in The Crucible since Paul ended up having to do mandatory overtime on a Friday night, and as we drove 19 between Washington and Cranberry, where the theater was, we discovered about two or three Max & Erma’s and wondered what the hell it was and why the hell there are so many between Washington and Cranberry. Keldon (as I call them because I’m lazy) got curious and looked the place up. It’s basically your typical casual-dining place with burgers, seafood, and pastas, but it sounded pretty good, so we went. The drinks weren’t great and I think the bartender wasn’t very good, but the food was way different. I had pasta, of course, which was good and not impressive, but everyone else swears they had the best burgers ever. And our waiter accidentally dropped Paul’s, so he got a new one and a $10 gift card. How’s that for a cheap date?

The original plan was to go to the South Side and drink since Kelly is newly 21. We wanted a pit stop at South Hills Village first, but by the time we got there, Paul was completely out. We walked the mall, I got some nice striped pants that he insists are too tight to conceivably wear in public, and he sat down in a chair and fell asleep and possibly also scared a small child and entertained bros.

True love is when you really want to go out drinking but say, “Do you want me to take you home?” instead. At first, Paul said no, that we were already halfway there and might as well just go and he’d be fine, but Keldon felt bad enough about how tired he was that they said we could go another weekend instead and coming back was fine. Besides, I live within walking distance of a six-pack shop and at least two beer distributers. And at least one bar, but I’m sure there are more.

But we did make two more pit stops while Paul just slept in the car–Barnes & Noble and Half-Price Books. I blame him. He’s the one who said, “You know, there’s a Half-Price Books up here.” I left with new David Sedaris, old Stephen King, and 50 Shades of Grey because I’m curious but sure I’ll hate it.

I was worried the six-pack shop might close early because that’s the kind of luck I have, but no smart business owner in a college town would close early on a Saturday night. The lot was parked. There was a line that included a man with long, blond dreadlocks. It was a beautiful place.

So we came back, drank, and someone turned my damn air conditioner down so that I woke up to 65 degrees. Thanks, Brandon.

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2 thoughts on “Where to Pick Up?

    1. That’s kind of my plan. I’ve hated all the excerpts I’ve heard/read for various reasons, mainly bad writing and abusive/controlling relationships, but I figure I should be an informed hater.

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