gentle persuasion

on thursday morning i was forced to help someone walk across the street. physically. the weapon was an outstretched hand, attached to a small young woman, probably mentally challenged in some way, who was wearing a backpack and walking with one of those crooked metal canes with four little feet. i have seen her around the neighborhood of our offices before, usually near the county museum. watching her slowly cross the smaller streets, i have wondered more than once how she manages to get to the other side of wide, wide wilshire boulevard before the light changes. now i have an inkling.

on thursday, i was coming from the parking garage on the other side of ogden, which borders the museum to the west, when i saw her step out onto wilshire, in front of traffic that was just about to move (as the light had changed against her). by the time i got over there, she had managed to get back onto the sidewalk. i pushed the button for the walk sign. i asked if she was all right and said something about waiting for the light to change. she came over to me and looked down at my leather-gloved hand. then she grabbed it pretty tight, and gestured across the street. i was surprised, but i let her do it. why not? i said, "you want me to help you across the street?" and she nodded.

so the light inevitably changed, and off we went. we got a little more than halfway across before the light changed, but we kept going. there were two buses poised to hurtle in our general direction; i just glared at the drivers and mentally dared them to try it. they didn't move 'til we were across. on the other side, she dropped my hand, thanked me, and went on her way, in the opposite direction of citybeat world headquarters. strangely enough, i felt really good, even bubbly. i was amused that, though i was wearing my trademark black armor and impenetrable mirrored shades, she didn't find me unapproachable in the least. maybe she could see that underneath the facade i was actually a nice person. or maybe she just thought i looked like someone who could stop buses with one dark scowl.

drinking with coworkers

the citybeat crew's been doing a lot of tippling together of late. this inevitably leads to adventures, mostly of the usual kind. friday the 13th found me in episode 1, "drinking with the boys," co-starring, naturally, several of the boys (the goddamn fool, d:nero, doc 40, and the chief) at the kibitz room. it had been a particularly grueling day for some of the above, as a result of a business meeting. (thankfully, i was spared. it's good to not be the king.) after doc40 loudly protested the execution special on the history channel (resulting in the channel being changed), the lights were dimmed, we played some jimi hendrix on the jukebox, and eric mixed up a couple of pussy specials, we were enjoying each other's company immensely. the fun didn't last, of course. a guy got up to play some dreadful music, at which point the goddamn fool left. i think d:nero bailed earlier, to go shopping for a valentine's gift for his girl. anyway, so the chief, doc40, and i were enjoying a rollicking conversation, but this bad musician was sort of hard to ignore. we began to openly made fun of him, and i think the doc was even badly mock-singing along at one point. which was really uncalled for. i distinctly remember the performer's two friends pulling up a table right in front of him -- like, butted up to the low stage -- and kind of looking up at him, as if to be a friendly focal point. heh.

all of which once again proves that alcohol is evil -- and pussy drinks especially.

episode 2 of drinking with coworkers ("drinking on our own tabs") occurred late on thursday, the same day i was forced to perform a good deed. (see above.) citybeat was proudly sponsoring a music/fashion event at the conga room, a swanky retro-ish supper/night/danceclub down the street from us on wilshire. our publisher lured us with promises of buying rounds. always eager to support the team, to say nothing of imbibe for free, the selfsame crew as above, plus the talented and lovely calendar girl, along with young ad rep, convened at the conga room at the appointed hour. long story short, the publisher never showed! this miffed us, but it didn't stop us from getting drunk on each other's dimes. teamwork rocks.

calendar girl and i danced to some silly techno in one of several trippy little spirals projected onto the long wooden dance floor. that was fun. then we watched a couple of bands. one was a duo of adorable young lads who did something like electroclash en espanol, although that's really a vague generalization that sounds cool but doesn't mean much. anyway, the keyboardist had a two-tone hairdo, one half jet black, one half bleached blond, and it kinda came to a point in front. it was soooo '80s. the guitarist was more geeky indie-rock kid; dark t-shirt and baggy jeans. they took these sorta cheesy '80s keyboard and synthy guitar sounds and married them to more modern dance-music beats, like drum n bass, etc. d:nero pointed this out, and it was like, "yeahhhh."

the next band was more people, kinda funky, with a chick singer who came out all wrapped up, in this sort of "blade runner"-esque kimono getup, her head wrapped with a big white bandanna bearing japanese lettering. again,v. '80s. lots of makeup, kind of weird-looking but hot, like that chick in the levi's ads who steals back her classic car from the chop shop and stuff. at first it was like, "boy or girl?" soon she'd unwrapped herself and was wearing a really hot red silk boned bustier that left no doubt she was a girl. that was the main thing i remember about that act, the gorgeous bustier. sigh.

not much of note after that, except i made it home alive. and i had a brutal hangover the next day b/c i stupidly drank margaritas. should've done tequila & tonic, what was i thinking?