Don't ever try looking for fog juice for your fog machine on Halloween. It just doesn't work. I pounded the pavement for two hours, even drove to two different stores, but it was no-go. We had a chance to get some a couple of weeks ago, but we didn't buy any because we weren't sure if it was the right stuff.

Oh, well, the party wasn't as big as we had hoped, but it went well. I was recruited to hand out free food at the last minute, and was given a whopping $15 for my troubles. Wow. I make more than that in half an hour at my day job. It's all good though, I had free drinks all night, and a couple were even paid for by some woman I met at the bar a couple of weeks ago.

Then there was that little snort of pick me up M offered me after we closed for the night. It came in at the right time. I was freaking tired, and it lasted long enough to get me through the clean-up. Now I'm tired - I got maybe five hours of sleep, and now I need to move my car, get some breakfast, and get to my volunteer work. I spend my weekends at the SPCA as a cat socializer/adoption counselor. It's a lot of fun, when my brain isn't fried. We'll see how long I last today.

Back to serving food. Let's just say it's an educational experience, hanging out on the other side of a bar. You get to see a bar culture in a whole different way. See people get drunker and drunker, spill their drinks and get increasingly stupid over time. Unless you're drunk or high, it can get a little tedious. Maybe more on that some other time.

Anyway, while I was looking for the fog juice, I stopped by La Rondalla to say hi to some of the regulars I know. There was E, who looked like he had been working on a good drunk for a while. He shook my hand and tried to tickle it, but I couldn't help myself - pulled back hard and fast. I try not to do that, but he needs to know I ain't playing that game with him. He was trying to get me to go with his friends to the Castro, but I had plans.

My real motive for stopping by was to see if my Monday Mistake was going to show up. J, the bartender that night, got her to agree to hang out, at 8pm on Friday, but neither he nor she was there. Figures. I didn't know what I'd tell her yet, anyway. I honestly don't know what to do - I don't have her number, I have a vague idea where she lives, but I don't like the stalking thing.

Speaking of stalking, I was surprised to see I had a message from I, a previous mistake on my answering machine when I got back home this morning. She apologized for not being at La Rondalla that night (I don't remember agreeing to see her there) and said she'd catch me later. Okay.

music:

night life:

sex life: