This afternoon, D dropped by my cube, and asked if I was planning on going to see Wendy Woo tonight. (Background: Wendy Woo is a local artist who some around the office have obviously become fans of. So much so, in fact, that a character who we have in the past referred to as "E" often makes announcements when she is scheduled to play, and today was jokingly asked if she has been hired as Wendy Woo's official promoter.)

I said I hadn't really thought about it. D told me that the reason he asked was because C was thinking about meeting up with some us, but since nobody else had indicated an intent to show up, C was considering not going either. Well, as you can imagine, when I heard C's name, my interest increased significantly.

(More background, for new readers or those with foggy memories: "C" is a former coworker of B. (For those who are really out of it, the letter "B" is used to refer to the person currently typing this.) C quit the company earlier this year, and spent much of the summer touring Europe. It is widely believed, reasonably so, that C did very well with finding the right time exercise and sell his stock options. Just recently, he arrived back in Boulder.)

Well, I asked D what the plan would be if I should decide to go, and he said he and C were thinking about getting dinner on Pearl Street (as always, the audience is admonished never to confuse Pearl Street with Perl Street) -- sushi possibly, then head to the bar where Wendy Woo would be playing to meet E, her fiancé, and whoever else decided to show up.

B decided that this sounded like it could be a most entertaining way to spend the evening, and agreed.

So anyway, to make a short story short for once, B, C, and D ended up meeting on Pearl Street at 1830. C had arrived early, and already gotten us on the waiting list at the Hapa (did I remember that name right?) sushi restaurant. D was running a bit behind schedule, and the restaurant would not seat incomplete parties. Fortunately, D showed up before the wait was over.

While waiting for a table, B, C, and D hung out at the bar, C ordered a beer, and the three were seated in short order.

Ok, now the sushi restaurants I've visited previously were interesting, but the names of the menu items at this place had to top all! What sushi rolls to order? Hmmm. B contemplated whether to get the Foreplay, the Climax, the Orgasm, or be brave enough to order.... The Multiple Orgasm. Choices, choices. lol.

Of course, we were curious about C's grand tour of the patch of land across the pond. He proceeded to relate tales of his escapades. His favorite place, interestingly enough, was Switzerland. One of the stated reasons was because the land was a lot like Colorado. :)

The U.K.... Paris... Prague... Some cities with structures several times as old as the entire US history. Must be something. Stories of cannoning down rapidly flowing rivers, staying in friends' houses packed beyond capacity with people, watching the sunrise from the water on trains which board ferries. An adventure indeed.

We all ordered our food, which came without much delay. (Despite the fact that D is an herbivore, he was able to find ample sustinance to suit his taste in the sushi restaurant. B observed that this might have had something to do with the fact that it is, after all, the city of Boulder.) Mmm. Love that seaweed soup.

The first and second rounds of food arrived, and mmmm. B ate his tasty shrimp (no heads this time), D had mushrooms served up on patches of rice similar to the way the sea creatures were served, and C had his octupus. Lotsa yummies.

Then came for B a taste of the more familiar in the more adventurous sushi format: The Moo Moo Roll. Bits of beef seasoned with a garlic paste inside a sushi roll. Based on how it tasted and looked, the cow meat hadn't been cooked much more than the sea creatures. And yum, was it tasty! Kinda crumbly though. Was it ever worth it! Moo.

Then came my orgasm. (Please, no quotes out of context! :) The FATTEST goddamn sushi roll I have ever seen. A california roll, topped very heavily with a toasted cream cheese sauce. A huge creature. (No eyeballs though.) It tasted very fatty, and very good. Very flavorful. Yes, I think I'm getting more into this with each encounter. After that, I was FULL.

(I thought I had ordered light. Not so.)

After sushi, it was just after 2000, which was roughly the time the rest of the party would be arriving. We headed over to the chosen bar, hung out for a few, and took a table.

Now, I have heard from many sources that Guiness is a good beer. (Ok, "good" might be understating it. A great beer.) Up until tonight, I had never actually tried one. B and D ordered Guiness. C ordered Irish coffee.

C told of his tour of the Heineken brewery. He had been given the opportunity to drink as much free beer as he wanted, as long as it was consumed within a half hour. I asked how many he downed during that period of time. Four.

When the drinks arrived, B sipped. "So THIS is a Guiness?" Not bad.

B admitted to C and D that he was something of a newbie to the whole alcoholic beverage thing, due largely to the religion of his upbringing. They inquired about it, and B explained a little about it.

E and her fiancé arrived on the scene, and the party was underway. Of course, upon E's inquiries, C began to reiterate some stories of Europe, and what he had done there. Another arrived on the scene. An intern from work, who I shall call K (yeah, this lettering scheme is a real rocket science), along with a couple of his friends, joined the group. Then, a tragic discovery was made.

Wendy Woo was NOT scheduled to play at this bar. "What will we do? Where shall we go? How can we ever piece our lives back together?!?" Chaos ensued following this horrible tragedy. (Ok, I'm definitely an exaggerator now.)

The group decided to pay their bill, and move on to greener pastures. Since B and C both had nothing but 20's, C owed D a drink anyway, and getting a pile of change for multiple people was a hassle, C opted to pay for the whole bill, which would leave C and D even, and B would owe C a drink. Got all that? Good, cause it gets worse in a minute.

K opted to stay behind with his friends, while the rest of the bunch headed down the mall to Starbucks to see about the local talent there. There was a setup, but bobody was playing, nothing was happening, and none of us were terribly impressed with the prospects there.

So, we headed for the other fallback position: The Redfish bar. (And it should most definitely be noted that the Redfish bar is NOT to be confused with the redphish.... whatever.... thing.... marketing decides to make it into next.)

[Bitscape visits the above link himself, and can't help but shake his head and laugh profusely.] I'm laughing because of the beer. Yeah, that's it.

So yes, we headed into the Redfish bar. B, C, D, E, and her fiancé. A local band, Girls On Top, was scheduled to play. And indeed they were. Even as we entered, the music was flowing.

All the seats in view of the stage were taken, so we opted to stand. A waitress came to get our orders, but any kind of verbal communication was virtually impossible above the music. We somehow managed to order our drinks, using a combination of hand motions, and shouting into her ear 2 centimeters away at the top of our lungs.

When the drinks came, B was going to pay for his and C's drinks, but... communication options being what they were, she never got to B. Apparently, she thought the entire bunch was on one tab, and disabusing her of this notion amidst the sound proved to be far too difficult, and E's fiancé opted to pay the whole thing, rather than spend an hour trying to get the message across. (Don't know how she could not have seen the 20 B was practically waving at her face, but so it was.) He said we could make it up to him later.

So now, B owes E's husband-to-be 2 drinks worth, and I guess D own him for one. I think I'll just try and remember to carry in some cash with the correct change on Monday, and clear that up in short order.

B had to use the restroom. While he was there, the band stopped playing. Apparently, that had just been a test. For a few minutes, conversation was now possible.

During the silence break, C talked some more about Europe and its culture, and how it seems that Europeans are in denial about wanting to be like American culture. Wanting to think themselves superior, they don't like to admit that they are becoming like us. (I'm sure certain readers of this web page might have a slightly different view. ;) And now: I hereby wash my uninformed hands completely of any and all international cultural quarrels, and take the stance that: I am an idiot, and have NO opinion whatsoever. Hah! :)

I presently noticed that I had finished by beer completely, while the others still had significant portions of their glasses full. Earlier, I had practically inhaled that Guiness, and felt myself feeling like having more. And oops, I had apparently did it again. (Hopeless... Utterly hopeless.) Yum. And to think that six months ago...

An acquired taste. Definitely an acquired taste. Like licorice. I used to despise that stuff when I was little. From teenage years on, it's been one of my favorites. And now, downing those beers. Whatever is becoming of me?

(Here's hoping my grandmother isn't reading this page. Or she would totally, TOTALLY flip. Ya know the page I wrote like four point five years ago? The grandparents somehow ran across that one (probably didn't help that my brother's well-publicized page from that era had a link straight to it), and.... That was NOT a fun situation.)

As appealing as going to the bar for another sounded, I knew that I was going to need to drive Tobias home, and I acted accordingly. Also feeling the light head, tipsy turvy, and easily inspired to laughter. Time to stop.

Soon, the band started playing again. Three lead female vocalists, backed by a couple guitars, a couple percussions, and a keyboard. They were doing covers of the genre I believe was once referred to on Ally McBeal as something like "Elaine's slut rock". The ole 60's and 70's sounds. (Or sometime during that era. I wasn't alive then, so how the hell am I supposed to know what years this stuff was from?)

The singers were actually quite good. Especially the lead. How would I describe? ... like... power vocals. Ya know, that intense gutteral singing? The exact opposite of the "Oh sweet Minnie Mouse '83 Madonna" sound. Like it was coming from deep down in the throat. And .... I am babbling incoherently. It is after 2am, and this is ridiculous.

(Although the '85 "Love Don't Live Here Anymore" sound might be closer.)

Highly incoherent. From this point on, let's try to stick strictly to the facts. Better that way.

After a few songs, E and her significant other took their leave. B, C, and D stuck around. C was the next to leave, as he wanted to get up tomorrow to go rock climbing. Having been away from it for a while, he says he finds himself tiring much more quickly, and needs to get back in practice. B and D stuck around a bit longer.

Observing some of the people on the dance floor, D pointed out that they were a perfect example of why he maintains for himself a strict "no dancing after 4 drinks policy". lol.

Listened to a few more songs, B and D both agreed that the vocalists were quite good. More music, and B began to feel rather... beat. As if to echo that sentiment, D announced that he was heading home, said the customary parting phrases, and was out. Which left a party of 1.

This 1 was feeling increasingly fatigued, and unable to appreciate the music at hand. He took his leave momentarily.