Notes on a Cocktail Napkin

My day started off at the DMV or as I like to call it, “The Great Equalizer.” I try and avoid it like the plague, but since I lost my wallet a couple weeks ago, while high, of course; I had to make the pilgrimage. The first rule of the DMV is to make an appointment, which I did. I walked in and it resembled a lower-middle class refugee camp. It was filled with semi-employed people sitting in plastic chairs looking like extras from Schindler’s List. I gave my name and reason for my visit and I was given paperwork to fill out. I rarely use my license but I do remember a magnetic strip on the back. What I don’t understand is, why do I have to fill out information which the government already has? (Stupid government, maybe I will vote for the white haired dude who can’t use a computer and chose a hockey mom who only recently traveled outside of North America, as his second in command.) My number was called. I was informed that since my license expires in March, I could take the test now and just renew it. A test? But I hadn’t studied. I took it anyway. Guess what? I aced it. Thank God for that MFA from UCLA and the sixty large in debt that came with it.

I had five hours until I had to be at work, so I grabbed some lunch, then headed home to watch my stories. I put on Heroes, which I feel is going no where, but I watch it anyways. I got a call from Hurricane Cramy, my friends Carrie and Amy, who are in town from Houston. They picked me up and we got a beverage at The Lobster. The Lobster is my favorite place in Los Angeles to get a drink. To be able to sit outside with that view is such a pleasure. My buddy Dave works there and he always takes care of me. We had a couple of beers and a Mojito and the bill came to two cents, literally. I left Dave quarter, which is a twelve-hundred and fifty percent tip for those keeping score at home. Hurricane Cramy dropped me off. I put Heroes back on and proceeded to sleep right through it. Love that show. My friend Liza is still in town so I went to work early and met her for a drink. Great work if you can find it. My bartender Emily pointed me out to a woman who was holding a speed dating event at my bar. Liza, who now makes a living being single, told me that in the dating world there are far more terrific single women than there are mediocre guys. I believe she called it, “The amazing women to douche bag ratio.” She always had a way with words. When I walked her out, she commented that there were far more women than men, ominous.

On my way back in, speed dating was in full effect. I noticed a couple of women sitting alone. I mentioned this to the woman running the event and she said, “If you know any guys who want to speed date…” Hey, I’m on the clock, so I jumped in. Like I said, “great work if you can find it.” The first woman I spoke to was Laura, who’s real cute and from Spain. Since my sister lives in Barcelona, I have an affinity for Spanish women. (Hey, it’s not like I’m gonna kick a girl out of bed because she’s from Andorra.) Laura and I hit it off, but I wasn’t sure if I was gonna use my last roofie on her. The next two women I chatted with were really soft spoken and since I’m quite deaf I can’t tell you much about them. My fourth date was with Colleen. She dragged Laura and three other women to the event. She was good times. The next woman I met was Christiana, who is half Hungarian, half Vietnamese, and one hundred percent babe. She was a friend of Colleen’s and was just there for moral support. The final two of Colleen’s friends were Veronica, who hated the event, but was gonna check off all the dudes just to see which ones picked her. She was a lot of fun. The other friend was Megan, who had a few pops before the event and was concerned she was slurring. For the record, she was not and she had a great laugh. The other two women were Allison and Annaka. They came together, too, also great women. It appears that speed dating is like a women’s restroom, it’s not cool to go alone. The five women: Colleen, Christiana, Laura, Veronica, and Megan hung out at the bar. Turns out they all picked me. I dragged them next door to Main where we were having Rebel Yell, 80s night. We had some food, shots, and danced. Some numbers were exchanged, paella was promised, a good time was had by all.

A friend commented to me that she and her partner feel that I got my mohawk because I don’t want to meet women. I corrected her. I smoke weed and watch T.V. because I don’t want to meet women. The truth is I meet women all the time. I’m a fucking bartender. I just happen to be lazy and not big on making choices. In a perfect world, the right woman will just fall on my dick. For now, the gravitational pull of my vaporizer and high definition television is strong, but maybe I’ll get off the couch and go back to speed dating.

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