World Plastic Cup of Beer

Met Shawn and Liz at Ludwig's yesterday to watch Mexico play Argentina. The air conditioning was broken at Ludwig's for half the time we were there and so rivulets of sweat ran down my back, my temples were sweating, and I was able to pile my wet hair on the top of my head where it stuck without bobby pins because of the humidity. Luckily, there were $4 big plastic cups of beer to keep us cool, though even they seemed slightly tepid. It was like being at a big keg party with a bunch of sweaty (though largely Mexican) frat boys. Shawn was cornered by a very very extremely extraordinarily, I-can't-believe-he's-still-standing drunk man who'd gotten to the bar at around 8 AM. He was either German or Russian--I wasn't sure because I kept inching away from him as he had that "timber!" look about him and I imagined him doing a nose-dive into my chest on his way to the sticky floor. Liz showed up and we talked about sperm donation and I asked the guy next to us, Jessie, if he (theoretically) would ever consider being a sperm donor and he said, I've never really thought about it, but yes, I guess I wouldn't be opposed to it. Argentina won, and we stayed for a beer longer before leaving. I hate drinking during the day because it feels unnatural to step out into sunshine. It was only about 5:30, but I was done for the rest of the day since we hadn't eaten any dinner and I'd had about 4 of those tall beers. I drink too fast and then I want to leave, always. Shawn went back to work and I went home to watch TV--some reality show about little people--two little people who are married and have four kids or so, including twin boys wherein one is little and the other is not. How weird would that be? The dad (who was very handsome and rode around in a wheelchair to move more quickly) took his little person son to a convention of little teens. I can't remember if the son met anyone he liked, I just remember thinking how even if you were a little person, it doesn't mean you're automatically attracted to other little people--he could have the biggest crush on his twin's average-sized girlfriend, though no chance in dating her.

After that, I flipped back and forth between A Bug's Life and some Primetime Live crap about a kid at a frat who died after drinking too much water in a hazing ritual. In a very mean way, I didn't feel that sorry for him, because JHChrist do you have to belong to something so badly that you're willing to drown yourself in Aquafina for it?

(I'm in Charterhouse Coffee Shop on 9th St. right now and there's this very strange, googly-eyed blond man sitting in the egg shaped hammock chair holding his cup of coffee. He's just sitting there, not reading, not listening to music, rocking slightly and staring off into space. What's his deal?).

Okay, now I must work on my revision for just an hour or two.