Your Mom writes a blog.

Under Pressure is one of the best songs ever written.
I just had to get that out there. We were all thinking it.

Last night at the Green Mill, I was having some cocktails with Amanda, Zissou and The Dez. When we walked in, I was passing a table where a couple of regulars were having their own cocktails with a girl who used to work at the beat and who, if I am still up to date on her life, doesn't live here anymore, but still picks up the occasional shift when visiting her family. I already know too much about her based on what I just wrote.
As I passed, i said hello to the regulars and kept walking to our table.
And the other girl said "I don't like him" (She meant me)
What was I to do?
Doesn't everybody like me?
I mean, aside from the owner of a local comedy theatre because I constantly talk about him in my blog. All the time. I just can't stop...
I am such a likable person!
More or less.
I think it sent me spiraling down to a private Hell of self doubt.
Yep. That's what happened.
She and I have never really spoken much. In fact, I don't know her last name. I barely remember her first name. But here she is all 'not liking me' and stuff, and I can't figure it out.
She is one of those people who has a lot of piercings who looks like she shouldn't have a lot of piercings.
The kind of person who is edgy to a point, but when she goes on a job interview or to church with her family, she takes out all the piercings and places them in a little bowl that has a Hummel figurine in it who is dressed up as a hobo. She is only proud to be a unique individual when others are not looking or offering her eternal life or a job with a 401K.
I suppose that there are just some people you don't click with.
I often think about my Lisa and how she was really not clickable when I first met her. She was loud and opinionated and kinda mean to people who were mean to her. And I think that when i realized she wasn't the type to just doll out friendship like they were nilla wafers in a preschool, that is when I knew I wanted to earn her friendship. Because if I had it, I would have it for life.
And even if I tried to leave her circle, I would have to put up one hell of a fight. Or go batshit crazy and become racist and kick puppies across streets with razor blade cars screaming by.
(They exist in my head, those Razor blade cars. And i always come up with new models every year. This year they have 3 more cup holders and optional spoilers. Very nice. Eat shit, General Motors)
Maybe I just think that since I have climbed the mountain and made nice with Lisa and Jenny, I can really win over just about anyone.
Now, don't misconstrue this rant I am on as Jenny and Lisa being impenetrable blocks of icy fear monsters. No way. They rule, and are very kind when the situation warrants with strangers and the occasional child in a restaurant.
Though, everyone knows you shouldn't bring a kid into a restaurant until they are at least 10.
And don't get me started on everyone in The Dorchester Gang. Those guys are the best.
I love how 99% of the people who read this blog haven't the foggiest of what I am talking about.
I digress.
I am thinking that I am using my two closest friends as a model for everyone else in my life. And it isn't fair. But I'm a lucky guy and I feel sorry for those who don't have people like that in their lives.
Not many can live up to people who will gladly circle wagons at 4 in the morning when they have a test the next day at 7:30am when you are sad about a commercial you just saw about orphans eating Pannini sandwiches at a Cracker Barrel.
Did that make any sense? I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, and I don't like to proof read.
Pannini sandwiches are grilled on both sides in a special grill thing.
Orphans are kids without parents and who shout out headlines from newspapers they sell on street corners.
Cracker Barrel is a place you eat by the side of the highway.
Again, I digress.
So this chick doesn't like me. We never had a fight, nor have I told her that I don't like football.
Assuming she really likes football, and hates everyone who just decided that theatre was 'their thing'
And I was kind of pissed when I heard her say it outloud. In a very passive aggressive way, which is the norm for Minnesotan people.
I'm sure I am just as passive aggressive as the next guy who relies on his blog to really make a statement, but at least I don't do it at a bar, when I have been itching to get into a proper bar fight for as long as I have been allowed to drink legally.
But I want to get into a bar fight for a good reason. Like if a guy is punching a lady in the boob or a girl scout is outnumbered five to one and they all have knives.
Then the world will see a different side of me, i am sure.
Amanda kept me calm, because all I wanted to do was punch that chick in the boob, put on my kelly green beret and beat some ass.
Because truth be told, i don't like her much either, but my double standards are far more powerful than my logic and reasoning skills.
Point in fact, I am a mean little bastard.
But Amanda saved the life of a woman who had too much to drink, and she saved me from myself.
Didn't that sound like a Doogie Howser ending?
Your Mom's a Doogie Howser ending...

In other news:
I got Amanda to the Bus stop this morning, and am feeling a little blue.
But the light at the end of the tunnel is that I will be be in Indy for Halloween.
Looking forward to it is an understatement. Our time in the last three days has been great, and I hope when she comes next time she brings the rest of the Dorch with her. (edited in because I am unobservant)

I might go watch the VP debate tonight at the Riverview Theatre with Chris and Aimee.
Or I might come back to the beat and see the open mic festivus that is going on.
Or i might clean my bathroom floor.
All of these things sound better than politics. Except for the open mic.

In closing, I hope that if you get anything from this blog, you will try to be nice to everybody, and try to become really good friends with a select few who will get your back in any situation.
And if you inadvertently piss off some former co-worker and see her at a bar, don't punch her in the boob.
Don't punch anyone in the boob.
But if your co-worker person is dressed as a Girl Scout and she has a knife, take her out using a very scathing blog the next day.

And remember that Vicki from The Beat is a raging Bitch.

Damn I'm funny.

And everybody likes me. Whoo Boy.

Stay Awesome.
Andy