Monastery Misadventures
Doona and I hit The Monastery yesterday. Technically, it's The Monastery III but since there's only one left (and I'm still sad), I'm just going to stick with Monastery.
Since it was frakking hot out, and we met during the middle of that day at 3, we started out inside at the bar. There were only a couple of patrons and we kept pretty much to ourselves while catching up on stuff. Doona is one of the few people who can talk more than I so, between the two of us, we can go on for hours.
As time went by, the sparse crowd dwindled to just four patrons. One of them looked like Beavis (only cuter) and the other appeared to be a regular whose name was John. Jen, our bartender, told us John wanted to buy us each a drink. Okay by me. I thanked him from across the bar and ordered another Miller Lite. Doona was a little behind me and I don't think she ever got that free drink.
Eventually, Doona and I both had to go to the bathroom. The debate was who goes first because one person would get stuck alone at the bar and the other would be alone outside at the restroom. Both positions weren't readily defensible. Doona went first and that left me, John and Beavis.
John started to get chatty. He started with, "I hope it's OK that I bought you a drink, I'm just trying to be friendly." I said, "You can buy drinks all night if you want." It was all in the delivery because Beavis laughed out loud (John had bought him a drink, too). John then followed up with, "Well, I don't think your friend was happy with it." I told him, "She's not feeling well, she's been sick this week." Which was true, in fact.
I had a feeling that this guy wasn't going to go away easily. I guess we could have turned down the drinks (there was a round two) but, frankly, if some guy wants to expend the cash then so be it. It doesn't mean I'll be anything more than polite and thank him for the drink. It also doesn't mean I'm going to work him for anything else by playing pool or darts or chatting him up or even (no, thank you!) hint at going home with the guy.
Doona came back and I went outside to the bathroom. While I was out there, I put a call into Cheap Bastard. He lives in the hood and I thought he would get a kick out of showing up and protecting his "wimmens". He wasn't available but I wasn't too worried. I managed to bypass John because he'd gone out to the bathroom at the same time that I had.
What I didn't know until Doona told me was that she heard John and Beavis talking and John couldn't decide which one of us he wanted so he was doing eeny-meeny-miney-mo on us. Nice. Wow, I can't believe the guy was there alone with moves like that!
John eventually cleared out after I declined to shoot pool with him (OK, I lied and said I was bad at it). We spent the next hour doing the head swivel to make sure he was gone but we were safe.
The bartender turned the TV to the NASCAR race (which I'd forgotten to record) so I started watching while we were talking. By this time, a couple had sat down next to us and the guy was watching, too. We started gabbing and he asked who my favorite was. When I replied that it was Jimmie, I got the usual grimace that I've come to expect. I said, "Whatever, Robbie Gordon fan." (I'd seen the back of his Gordon tee-shirt.) He owned up that he was really a Junior fan and I recited Jimmie's stats with the kicker of "and he's really cute." The guy said, "I was waiting for you to say that part!" I then accused him of not liking Jimmie just because he's perfect.
We watched the rest of race together (poor Doona who couldn't have cared less). I went out to grill my Polish sausage and when I came back in there was a caution. They guy told me Jimmie had crashed and I told him that, if he really crashed, I was going to punch him in the head for bringing it on by just mentioning it. His girlfriend thought that was funny so I felt safe in making the threat.
It was all in good fun and I'm bummed that Jimmie fell back at the finish. Dang it! He was running in second for so long...
Our next round of entertainment came from watching the crowd. There was a birthday party there and they kept sending the same poor schmo in to buy the drinks. There was also a couple that we suspect was on a first date. Finally, there were a bunch of really cute foreign boys there (maybe training at the airport?)
The foreign boys had a strange accent. Not German nor French. I decided to call them Scandinavian since that gave me several countries to choose from. Doona and I headed outside to watch the band around 8 and the foreign boys were playing volleyball.
Wherever they're from, they clearly don't have volleyball. To a man, they were uniformly terrible at the game. Couldn't serve, couldn't return, couldn't even catch the ball when it was thrown to them. I tried to psychically project that they might be better at it if they took their shirts off (range of motion and all that) but to no avail. They did appear to be having fun, though, and that's all that matters.
We finally called it a night around 9 or so. It was a full afternoon and evening of entertainment. I told Doona that as long as there's a story for the blog, it's always good.
BTW, for those who haven't been to Monastery lately...they've put a bar outside and built a ramada with misters in it over the concrete area that faces the stage. It was pretty nice out there despite the hot summer weather.
Since it was frakking hot out, and we met during the middle of that day at 3, we started out inside at the bar. There were only a couple of patrons and we kept pretty much to ourselves while catching up on stuff. Doona is one of the few people who can talk more than I so, between the two of us, we can go on for hours.
As time went by, the sparse crowd dwindled to just four patrons. One of them looked like Beavis (only cuter) and the other appeared to be a regular whose name was John. Jen, our bartender, told us John wanted to buy us each a drink. Okay by me. I thanked him from across the bar and ordered another Miller Lite. Doona was a little behind me and I don't think she ever got that free drink.
Eventually, Doona and I both had to go to the bathroom. The debate was who goes first because one person would get stuck alone at the bar and the other would be alone outside at the restroom. Both positions weren't readily defensible. Doona went first and that left me, John and Beavis.
John started to get chatty. He started with, "I hope it's OK that I bought you a drink, I'm just trying to be friendly." I said, "You can buy drinks all night if you want." It was all in the delivery because Beavis laughed out loud (John had bought him a drink, too). John then followed up with, "Well, I don't think your friend was happy with it." I told him, "She's not feeling well, she's been sick this week." Which was true, in fact.
I had a feeling that this guy wasn't going to go away easily. I guess we could have turned down the drinks (there was a round two) but, frankly, if some guy wants to expend the cash then so be it. It doesn't mean I'll be anything more than polite and thank him for the drink. It also doesn't mean I'm going to work him for anything else by playing pool or darts or chatting him up or even (no, thank you!) hint at going home with the guy.
Doona came back and I went outside to the bathroom. While I was out there, I put a call into Cheap Bastard. He lives in the hood and I thought he would get a kick out of showing up and protecting his "wimmens". He wasn't available but I wasn't too worried. I managed to bypass John because he'd gone out to the bathroom at the same time that I had.
What I didn't know until Doona told me was that she heard John and Beavis talking and John couldn't decide which one of us he wanted so he was doing eeny-meeny-miney-mo on us. Nice. Wow, I can't believe the guy was there alone with moves like that!
John eventually cleared out after I declined to shoot pool with him (OK, I lied and said I was bad at it). We spent the next hour doing the head swivel to make sure he was gone but we were safe.
The bartender turned the TV to the NASCAR race (which I'd forgotten to record) so I started watching while we were talking. By this time, a couple had sat down next to us and the guy was watching, too. We started gabbing and he asked who my favorite was. When I replied that it was Jimmie, I got the usual grimace that I've come to expect. I said, "Whatever, Robbie Gordon fan." (I'd seen the back of his Gordon tee-shirt.) He owned up that he was really a Junior fan and I recited Jimmie's stats with the kicker of "and he's really cute." The guy said, "I was waiting for you to say that part!" I then accused him of not liking Jimmie just because he's perfect.
We watched the rest of race together (poor Doona who couldn't have cared less). I went out to grill my Polish sausage and when I came back in there was a caution. They guy told me Jimmie had crashed and I told him that, if he really crashed, I was going to punch him in the head for bringing it on by just mentioning it. His girlfriend thought that was funny so I felt safe in making the threat.
It was all in good fun and I'm bummed that Jimmie fell back at the finish. Dang it! He was running in second for so long...
Our next round of entertainment came from watching the crowd. There was a birthday party there and they kept sending the same poor schmo in to buy the drinks. There was also a couple that we suspect was on a first date. Finally, there were a bunch of really cute foreign boys there (maybe training at the airport?)
The foreign boys had a strange accent. Not German nor French. I decided to call them Scandinavian since that gave me several countries to choose from. Doona and I headed outside to watch the band around 8 and the foreign boys were playing volleyball.
Wherever they're from, they clearly don't have volleyball. To a man, they were uniformly terrible at the game. Couldn't serve, couldn't return, couldn't even catch the ball when it was thrown to them. I tried to psychically project that they might be better at it if they took their shirts off (range of motion and all that) but to no avail. They did appear to be having fun, though, and that's all that matters.
We finally called it a night around 9 or so. It was a full afternoon and evening of entertainment. I told Doona that as long as there's a story for the blog, it's always good.
BTW, for those who haven't been to Monastery lately...they've put a bar outside and built a ramada with misters in it over the concrete area that faces the stage. It was pretty nice out there despite the hot summer weather.
