It was an old boys night out on Wednesday as myself and Noel hit the local Thai restaurant and rolled back the years with some amusing anecdotes and references. Obviously they would be lost on you guys as they reflect on stories like that hilarious time back in 1988 when I announced quite loudly in McDonalds – and in an overly-dramatic tone – that I was a ‘failure’. Noel followed this up by randomly shoving his coke on to the floor for no reason whatsoever leading to us maturely leaving in a fit of giggles.
While in the restaurant Noel also absently rolled out his obnoxiously loud “Margot-largot-largot-largot-laaaargot” chant – a loving reference to his six-month old pug. The woman directly behind him threw numerous odd looks at him but not as pronounced as the ones we threw at her partner whose pants were pulled up so high his belt practically strapped his nipples in.
With a few beers down us we took a trip down to Madison and 5th, a totally cool bar on University Avenue. After a couple of mega-strong Baileys served up by the mega-striking-looking Brooke from New York, we rolled outside the bar to unleash a series of mildly amusing in-jokes that had us doubling up with joyous laughter. Seriously, it was depraved.
My ability to arise at a decent hour in the morning is becoming more and more like my abilities at home – bloody awful. This time I struggled out at 9.20 for a run and after dicking around for a few hours in the house we finally hit the office at midday. Yes, this is true start-up life.
On my way home I dropped in to the local drug-store for an electric razor to attack the increasing face-fuzz of the last week. Noel called and asked me to get him some beers while I was there. I was of course totally forgetting that Americans invariably have to see ID no matter who you are. I was asked for my date of birth as a fair exchange for my lack of ID and my rattling off of the fact that I was born in 1973 seemed to satisfy the pleasant but totally bored store manager.
Myself and Orin then hit a bar in Mountain View last night while Noel tended to a business meeting in San Francisco. Orin was all about the pool table so we took it on and yours truly showed his shark tendencies with an unbeaten run of about 9 games. I was relieved to finally lose I tell you. I was getting cue elbow.
Anyway we totally got wasted, no more so than when a nice Irish guy bought us a drink at the bar. Orin cashed in and ordered a double tequila shot thing – first time I’ve had tequila since 1994. The taxi back to civilisation was comical – the guy had no freakin’ clue where we were going. Even our repeated and slow pronunciation of “University Avenue” failed to make any progress with this guy. I actually think he didn’t speak any English at all save for his expert and quick-fire reading of the rapidly-increasing meter.
Reminds me of a scene from the occasionally-funny “Brain Donors”. Ambulance-chasing lawyer John Tuturro decides to question his cab driver Mel Smith as to why the dials on the meter are spinning like a roulette wheel.
Turturro: Aren’t those numbers clicking by awful fast?
Smith: You’re probably a speed-reader.
Turturro: Well you got me there.
Needless to say day 6 began with me regretting that tequila.
The work day was really a wash out. The morning comprised of a long breakfast, a trip to a car lot and a stroll around Fry’s checking out all the electronics I can’t afford.
Finally, my US tour has had some new dates added. So I leave for Chicago in the morning but due to work commitments I will be returning to Palo Alto for the week on Sunday night rather than going home. I fly home via LAX on Friday 9th I’m reliably informed by my “people”.
Isn’t that exciting? Eh?