Friday Yahtzee and I were enjoying ourselves just splendidly at Mick O'Seamus. The band was experiencing some sound problems that were just fine by me: feedback on the fiddle, a crunchier rock guitar sound, drums overwhelming. I thought they sounded great and in good voice, and the Guinnesses flowed freely. Early on was a fundraiser for the GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) and there were dozens of lads and lasses about, many of the lasses easy-on-the-eyeholes.
Unfortunately, early in the second set we were beset by the appearance of several mugs from the past. I was happy to see Duck because from time-to-time I wonder if he's alive. It was also fun to see Shan--she walked past me five or six times before we realized who each other was. Shan went to Catholic School with Cha many moons ago, and at one time we were all roomies together back in our poor school days. I think I'm the only male on the East Coast with whom Shan hasn't slept (I know Duck has been in the pond of late), but we're still friends anyway.
The problem was that Shan's husband Dizzy Gilespie was along, and he's the most pointless and detestable human being I've encountered in 37 years. I'd stand Tom Delay, Ralph Reed, and Grover Norquist a round of beers and hang out with those reprehensible blokes over Dizzy Gilespie any day. He proceded to sit at our table uninvited, loudly asked if we had any "coke," then started screaming "I've got good hash" at the top of his lungs. Duck apologized and said "I can't stand him, I can't understand a thing he says, and I've got to get away," then he and Shan went in the back room leaving us with their castaway, who promptly pissed off everyone in the room. "I haven't done coke in a week," he yelled in my ear. "I threw out my phone numbers because it was getting baaaaaaaad. Can you fix me up?"
Dizzy Gilespie has two sons, both of whom he neglects, one with Shan and another with a previous gal. He and Shan used to put the boys to bed and then have three or four other couples over for ecstacy orgies. Cha and I were invited to these soirees a few times, but lamentably were somehow always otherwise occupied. Dizzy said to me once "I really think Cha should come over to one of our parties. I'd love to tap that ass." I picked him up by his throat and was restrained by the Hulk from finishing the job. That was five years ago at a Halloween party, the last time I saw him.
Dizzy didn't have a job (aside from downloading music and porn all day) for years while Shan worked two of them on top of her PhD program. They moved to WVa so her parents could support the kids and Dizzy while Shan busted her ass. Now he does have a job but he's still hateful and intolerable, and he drove Yahtzee and me out of the bar. "Why don't you ever want to hang out?" he screamed in that jangly nasal whine as I was leaving. Oh, God, why are they back in Baltimore? I thought. I really wanted to hear the third set too.
Saturday Yo! Adrienne and Julio dropped by for two rounds of Scrabble. I'd turned off the furnace weeks before but the temperature Saturday evening dropped low in the 30s and we were freezing our asses off for three hours. I had a pleasant time, though, and they sang while I played guitar after game two.
Cha remains in Italy, and says "I am seeing many beautiful things."
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