what about your friends || 05.07.03 at 11:38
It's nice to have friends, really it is. But when said friends do your bloody head in, it's not so nice. Thursday saw me at the mercy of R and J due to the death of my car earlier in the week. Normally, this would've been fine when driving to Providence or Newport, but when I feel taken advantage of it's a different story. If the initial plans weren't constantly changed, then I wouldn't've had a problem. Originally I was to meet R at the Newton Highlands T stop off the Green line circa 5pm, until J called me and wanted me to take the T here or the commuter rail there. Eventually he decided it would just be easier to pick me up - that it would. Not to mention, if he'd got his arse on the road instead of speaking to me about nothing for twenty minutes, he could have picked me up before R, which would have equated to us getting on the road a lot sooner and not being stuck in a ridiculous traffic jam of people trying to go south on the highway during a holiday weekend.
The original reason we were even venturing to Providence was to meet Kitty in order to see a free concert on the green featuring Th1rd Eye Bl1nd (thanks for that piece of genius Dave), which never happened. We ventured to a bar/arcade place at the top of the Providence Place mall called Dave and Buster's, where upon arrival J buggered off to play games whilst R and I sat at the bar waiting for Kitty and her group of friends to arrive. When Kitty did arrive, J was no where to be found so we commenced shooting a few shots to get us going. Upon the arrival of three of her friends, one a co-worker who was an in-your-face lesbian, J took off. Apparently there was an altercation at a recent party where one of Kitty's friends approached R and asked her straight out if she was gay. What kind of question is that to ask someone you first meet, without evening introducing yourself? Perhaps on first meeting the next person I meet, I'll ask them if they're straight. It's a tad absurd in my mind and Kitty's friend most definitely had a gigantic chip on her shoulder. Once you managed to get past the rough edges, she was pleasant enough. That is, until she rubbed her hand down my leg after shaking hands with J. Apparently she thought J and I were a couple and since his hands were sweaty, thought I could have his "man sweat" back.
Soon after that their names were called for their table of eleven, one which we didn't all adjourn to at once. My excuse was that I was finishing my meal, and watching the tennis at the bar, whereas R was waiting for J, and Kitty was catching up with us. Later, Kitty and R did join the other group at the table and the friend of Kitty took an instant disliking to R, whether it was because she previously hit on her or because she decided to adopt the persona of a class A bitch, who knows.
I think we left that bar around half past ten and instead of heading outside to see the concert we'd missed, or the fireworks, we hit a bar called Stitches. Not long after we'd ordered our first drinks J leaned across to talk to a guy close by, who happened to work there and asked him where he could get some weed, at least that's what I assume since not longer after that they headed outside and didn't return for almost 45 minutes. This of course, pissed R off to no end. She did managed to have a good time in J's absence though - she and kitty danced on stage for a few songs, whilst I was trying my not to continue drinking - somewhere along the way John had relinquished the car keys to me and now I was the designated driver, who had to sober up. When J finally returned with colonel mustard, (so dubbed because of his abundance of yellow clothing when we first met him), twenty minutes after a phone call that said they were a block away, R laid into him with a barrage of abuse. She asked why they were gone so long and because she was so irate, thought that colonel mustard was lying and then exclaimed that she knew when he was lying because she was a psychologist – she’s actually a senior project manager and although her masters focused on neuropsychology, she’s not a psychologist. As colonel mustard was attempting to apologise, she completely blanked him when the next song came on under the guise of just having to dance to this song. The night went pretty much down hill after that. Sure, J was happy because he was now baked, but R was upset that he left the club with a complete stranger to obtain drugs for both himself and Kitty. At that point, I was pretty much ready to leave, but out of politeness said nothing.
Just after midnight, we moved on to a bar that was supposedly “right around the corner”, but that was about a ten minute walk away, in a strange city mind. We ended up at an Irish bar/deli that was jam packed with people. Kitty and J went outside to get baked, whilst R was intent on apologizing to me every two seconds for his behaviour. At about twenty to two, I was ready to go. J asked me to get him another beer, I told him no, that as soon as R and Kitty were finished with their beers we were going to leave. He obviously had other things in mind as he ordered another beer as soon as he could get the waitress’ attention. Upon J ordering what was to be his final beer, I graciously accepted my bag from J and told them that I’d meet them in the car when they were finished. Luckily, J and Kitty stopped R from coming after me, because if she had, I would’ve given her what for and I can guarantee she wouldn’t’ve liked a word of what I had to say. I trounced back to the car, alone and through a mostly deserted city. I locked myself in the car, which was the only car parked along a main street and fell asleep, careful not to have the keys in the ignition for fear of a police officer stopping by to see what the problem was. I finally received a phone call around three o’clock telling me that they were on their way and were attempting to find Kitty’s car in the parking garage – they finally showed up, in Kitty’s car around quarter to four. Apparently they’d been traipsing around all of creation looking for her car – they were in the wrong parking garage.
On the drive back to Boston, J sacked out in the back seat and R tried to keep the conversation going – I just wanted to listen to the radio and watch the sky lighten as I kept about fifteen miles above the speed limit in order to get home as quickly as possible. Perhaps about halfway home, near exit on 95 we saw a vehicle off to the side of the road with its hazard lights flashing and as we drove by, saw a woman standing in front of the vehicle. I called the state police (*77 in most states) to report it. I was transferred to a gruff man who thought I should know what exactly was wrong with the vehicle, never mind the fact that it was a woman, alone, on the side of the highway at four in the morning. R could tell I didn’t like the tone of the man’s voice, so she promptly called to report the situation, stressing the fact that the woman was alone – we probably should have woken J up and made him call from his mobile also. I couldn’t stop, and by the time I got to the next exit, it would’ve been such a hassle to turn around, go all the way back to the previous exit and pull another u-turn to see if she needed help. We thought by calling the state police we were helping, but who knows if they even responded.
I finally pulled up to my house around half past four, the sky wasn’t quite light, but well on its way. R continued to barrage me with apologies as she took the drivers seat and J managed to grunt his goodbyes from the backseat. By the time I rolled into bed, it was gone five – and just a few hours later, my roommate tried to barge in my room, for what reason I’m still not sure, whilst I was sleeping completely naked. Luckily I woke up in time to shout out an “I’m not dressed” warning.
Yesterday was extremely lackadaisical. Between studying at the Gate with KAT (not to mention the drinking and my last battered-sausages and curry chips for what I presume to be quite awhile), taking a four-odd hour nap before we were due to watch the fireworks, watching MI2, and then heading down to KAT’s place to indulge in half of a bloody good bloody mary whilst watching the fireworks on her muted t.v. and signing along with Gary to the Beach Boys playing in the back ground, it was actually a great day.
Let’s see how much actual studying I get done today, my bet is not bloody much at all.
Did anyone watch the trophy presentation at Wimbledon today? I thought the exchange of words between the Williams sisters was extremely heartfelt, it must’ve been great to have all their family, minus their father there. I wonder who foot the travel bill for their mother and sisters though.