Syphilis free?

Guess what? I don't have syphilis.

My hands recently broke out in hives so I went to University Health Services today. Here is an excerpt from my conversation with the Nurse Practioner.

NP:When was you last sexual encounter?

ET#1: Ummm. Let's just say it should not be an issue. Why?

NP: Oh because it could have been syphilis. But even among the most promiscuous, I have only seen one case of it.

ET#1: What?

NP: I think you have atopic dematitis brought on by stress.

ET#1: What if I have some kind of mutant form of syphilis? How can we check? Oh my god, I have syphilis.

NP: [Laughter] You do not have syphilis. I am sorry I mentioned it. It is impossible for you to have it. [Laughter] I guess we should never mention the worst case scenario first. [Laughter, as she sees the panic on my face. More laughter as she sits down at her desk]

I still don't know what the cause of the bumps on my hand, but after consulting a few medical textbooks I am sure it is not syphilis. Whew!

Memorial day festivities

I am posting a little late this week as I has a fun filled weekend in NYC. Evil twin #2 was most kind in hosting me this weekend. While I have so many things to tell, I thought I would just give a brief synopsis of the weekend's activities.

Last week I was feeling a little burnt out from work, and so was Evil twin #2. The solution: hang out with little to no agenda and hatch up schemes to take over the world.

I got into Penn Station a little late, but nothing was going to dampen my spirits as I was free free free. The greatest aspect of NYC is its gastronomic delights. So the first stop for the Evil twins was Chinatown. We did not eat chinese food, we had vietnamese but you know how it all looks the same. After delicious crispy squid and hollow vegetable, we stopped in for some ice cream at the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory. I love their ice cream, but hate the fact that the only place to eat it is outside in NYC's most foul smelling sections of town. The mingling taste of banana and rotting fish can be somewhat disturbing.

We walked to a bar called Manahatta to meet some of Evil Twin #2's BF's friends. When we walked in, it became obvious that most New Yorkers were out of town for the weekend as the bar was crawling with the "bridge and tunnel crowd." In the bathroom, I heard two girls talking about how one boy was sweatin' her and she said that was cool even though her best friend had a crush on him becuase that was life. I felt bad for the friend and almost called the girl a skank, but not wanting to start a fight with a jersey girl I don't knowI returned to the group. I sat next to a boy who was fairly good looking so I thought things were looking up for the night. Unfortunately, talking to this boy was about the most painful event as he replied with monosyllabic words: yes, no. and hmmm. We decided to leave early and rest up for Sunday's events.

A college buddy, K, and his girlfriend G were throwing a bbq in Brooklyn. Since the weather was fantastic and you can never say no to meat cooked on a fire, we made the trek out there. K was a little suprised to see me since Evil twin #2 replied to the Evite as two coming, but forgot to mention who the other guest was. Lucky for Kand G, I was pyromaniac in a former life and helped get the fire going. Apparently, living in a city with a girlfriend and a chihuahua has snuffed out any primal instinct out of K. The food was excellent and later on to the afternoon, we all began to slowly pass out in front of the TV watching MTV shows, like "I am a Jersey Shore Girl." Xtian from our brother blogsite, the hose, was there too and hopefully he may a more humorous account of the day.

After a little more wandering around the city, we had appetizers for dinner and decided to call it a night. Well, actualy we watched a little bit of TV too, but what we watched was too embarrassing to report.

I had to return home the next day. It is always amazing how quickly time goes by in NYC.

Rainy Days and Sundays

I think I may have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). I've been kinda blue lately and I'd like to blame the weather for my mood. It could be the rainy weather, or it could be the crazy hours that I've been working lately. I don't think I've had a really relaxing weekend (meaning one where I don't have to go into work for at least 6 hours) since April. I fell into the trap of "work hard and play hard" the last few weeks. It was fun at first, but then my body just couldn't keep up. I guess that's my excuse for not posting in a while.

The week after I got back from Philly I was sick as a dog, but managed to stay at the office for about 80 hours during the week (I even pulled an all nighter after getting back from Philly). The weekend after Philly, I went back to Pittsburgh for Mother's Day (and toted many heavy documents which I actually reviewed) and partied it up with my younger brothers. I guess I partied a little too hard because I lost my voice that weekend and didn't get it back for an entire week. Nothing quite like answering your phone at the office and people hanging up on you because they think they've called a chat line. Hmmm... maybe that's why my client was so eager to chat with me last week .

The following weekend, I was at work until 11:00 pm on Saturday (after spending 5 hours in a car in transport for a bridal shower in Connecticut) and then met up with the boyfriend (BF) and his friends (and managed to run into some old friends as well) at a bar in Tribeca. We drank into the wee hours of the morning and I somehow managed to drag myself into work on Sunday at 11:00 am (which is really early since it takes me about an hour to get to the office when the stupid A train runs local!). I tried to work as efficiently as possible since BF and I were supposed to cook a fancy meal together and pop open the super expensive bottle of wine that we both chipped in for, but this is very hard to do when functioning off barely 5 hours of sleep. I didn't quite finish my work and I wasn't really in the mood to drink some more (since I was still recovering from the previous night's bender) but I didn't want to disappoint BF since I had been putting off this meal for weeks. In the end it was pretty good.

We started with fresh mozzarella, with yellow, red, and orange tomatoes drizzled with fancy schmancy basil infused olive oil. For our main course we made bucattini with san marzano tomatoes and pancetta. For dessert, we paired our pricey wine with three of my favorite cheeses and chocolates from Jacques Torres. I am not a wine connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination. Alcohol is something that I tolerate and don't really enjoy because it usually makes me feel really ill. This, however, was like ambrosia--nectar for the gods. Too bad the gods don't give this stuff away for free. I woke up the next morning hangover free, despite drinking almost half a bottle.

The following week was even crazier. I've been living at the office and the aeron chair that they give us all is no longer comfortable. I have to remember to get up out of it every once in a while--it's a bad sign when the mesh leaves an imprint on your butt and the backs of your thighs. . .through your skirt. I was here last weekend (both Saturday and Sunday) and I hope to God that I don't have to go in this weekend.

Despite pulling all these hours I've managed to see BF (although he says that I've been less than my chipper self lately), watch some movies with college friends and catch up with the law school crowd. I thought that this would be good for me. Instead of providing a distraction from work, however, all of these activities have made me feel as though I'm trying to do way too much on way too little sleep. My work product is suffering and unfortunately, BF has been suffering too. I admit, I've been a bit of the cranky-pants lately. But, can you really blame me? ?

Last Friday night, I decided to combat my SADness by keeping things low key. I went to see Layer Cake (a fantastic flick which I highly recommend) with the law school crowd and headed straight home so that I could spend some quality time with my TV. It's amazing how 4 hours of the Gilmore Girls can pull a gal out of the doldrums. I take great comfort in watching television, and yet again, it didn't let me down. I went to bed at almost 3 am, about the time I'd turn in if I went out on the town. But instead of running around the city in the rain, I was perched on my couch/bed in pajamas eating Joseph Schmidt chocolates and watching Rory and Lorelai on screen. I met up with the BF and the college crew on Saturday morning to watch Star Wars: Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith. It was good, but not as engaging as Layer Cake. Still, it was good to see everyone and I have promised myself that I will not wait 6 months until seeing them again.

After the movie and wandering a bit around midtown, the BF and I had a heart to heart at the the Penn Top Bar, which is on the roof of the Peninsula Hotel (btw, their prices are ridiculously expensive--$7 for a coke, $20 for a martini). I thought it went pretty well, but I guess that he didn't think so because we just had another talk last night and this morning. I guess that my stress is manifesting itself in my behavior and he's not used to seeing me like this. We had our first real fight last Thursday and that's why we had to have the talk on Saturday. I am not sure what the end result of all this discussion will be. I sometimes think that BF overanalyzes things. It's kind of funny--most guys don't want to talk about the relationship and BF wants to know what I want out of our relationship. I said "I don't know" and he is dissatisfied with that answer. When I asked him the same thing he said "I don't know." So, my question to him, why is it ok for him not to know but not for me to be unsure? No speedy reply to that one. When pressed again for an answer, I replied "to be happy." I thought that was a good answer and one that couldn't be faulted. But his reply, "Does this mean you are unhappy?" Man, BF can be such a girl sometimes.

To be honest, I haven't been the happiest person lately. But, it's really unrelated to BF. It's because work has been insane and I'm having some difficulty coping. Actually, I take that back. It does have a little to do with him because I expected him to be more supportive than he has been. I'm not saying that he's been a jerk or anything. I think it's a male/female thing. BF told me that he can't fix my career problems (not that they are problems). I couldn't believe that I had to tell him that I don't want him to fix my problems, I just want him to throw me a pity party, tell me it'll be ok, that I'll get through it, and then give me a hug. I tried to explain that to him this morning and he looked at me as though I was crazy. Men. So very different from women.

Anyway, we are supposed to meet up later and go to the ballet. I got tickets through work and we are going to Lincoln Center to watch the American Ballet Theater perform Don Quixote. Work has finally slowed down and I have time to myself again. It's rather strange to me that I can do what I want without having to worry about getting an e-mail or an assignment or a phone call about this that or the other thing that needs to be done yesterday. At least that's how it's been for today. We'll see about tomorrow.

White people, white people, white people everywhere

For the first part of my life, I was the token colored child of the neighborhood. I fulfilled so many Asian stereotypes, like I was good in math and science, was tiny (was being the operative word), and had a weird name. I spent tons of time telling people about my background and fending off ignorant comments. I cannot even count the number of times I had people tell me I speak English really well with hardly an accent. While I know it was meant as a compliment, the truth is I do not speak anything else so speaking English "well" turns out not to be a great compliment. I've also mastered explaining the differences between Chinese, Japanese and Korean people (hint: it has to do with different countries) And no I have never eaten dog.

By the time I was in high school, I was no longer the only person of color. There were in fact 11.5 of us in a class of 68 people. But it is amazing how even with such great numbers, we managed to all stay quiet and play down our ethnic backgrounds. So instead of being a spokesperson, I just pretended just to be like everyone else. That is not to say there was not the occasional reminder such as the incident during our athletic award ceremony. I was a coxswain for the Boy's Crew Team, 1st boat as a matter of fact, and we received an award for being ISL champs that year. As I got up to collect my mini pewter statue, I hear Emily C. Grandmother yell, "Someone help that poor Chinese girl, she doesn't realize it is the boys turn." Ah, yes, there is nothing more insidious than old money prejudice.

College had the pendulum swing the other way. Everyone was uber culturally sensitive. Students practiced Korean drums out on South Lawn. Teachers knew how to pronounce my name. People rushed to my defense at any off color remark. But the truth is this behavior got tiring too. I was starting to feel a little like Goldilocks, everything was a little off. But like Goldilocks, I found a place that was just right, Northern California.

In the Bay Area, race can be a part of you without being all of you. The all around better feeling about race issues really stems from the fact that people of color are out in droves.

After moving back to the East Coast, I really had not thought much about race. I've been working and in my world I was still a majority. But in my recent foray into going out more, I can't but help notice, I'm surrounded by whitey.

This weekend I encountered the largest congregation of white people ever. My friends A, G, and I went to the Avalon to hear the Doves. (Total digression: but it was a most excellent concert. They were really tight and their music is so much better live; richer, fuller, sounds than that captured on CD.) It was an unusual crowd, more massholes than indie rock boys and girls. Many of the girls were hooched up, instead of wearing the layers of t-shirts and heavy black eyeliner. The boys were buff instead of the emaciated sensitive guy you expect at these things. I told A that I thought it was a very odd crowd, much more diverse than I expected. She replied "Not so diverse. They are all white."

Ah yes. A was right that was a common denominator. It got better. Avalon is situated right next to Fenway Park, home of the Boston Red Sox. Just as we were leaving, the Sox game let out too. Families and inebriated men cam pouring out into Yawkey Way. Common denominator between concert goers and baseball fans: all white people. As we walked down Brookline Ave. we passed a huge movie theater with teens outside along with people in Star Wars Costume. Common denominator between concert goers, baseball fans, disaffected youth and nerds: all white people.

The funny thing is that I am no longer worried about race. It doesn't bother me nor do I feel put upon. I just like making the observation: There are a lot of white people in Boston.

The patented Evil Twin #1 "Run away" move

I have no idea who actually reads these posts, but I assume for the most part you, readers, are friends. Some of you may know that I went on my first date, ever, a few weeks ago. (This is not counting the time I went to the junior high semi-formal with Eric S.) How does someone become 29 and never go on a date? It was not easy my friends, but it definitely helps to be socially retarded when it comes to boy/girl relations. I did not realize people still dated, as I kind of thought people just hooked up nowadays. And to that end, I am also completely oblivious to the fact when I someone is hitting on me, or I am completely unable to hit on someone. It is unfortunate, but luckily for me I have friends who are willing to throw a little advice my way.

On my first date ever, I went to a bar/restaurant with a nice elderly gentleman, who asked me out after meeting me at another bar. Normally, I would not accept, but I realized not accepting is part of the reason I had never been out on a date. We had a very pleasant time talking about life, work, family, friends, interests, etc.. At the end of the night he offered to drive me home, and I accepted. (I had done a thorough background check on the guy, and interrogated mutual acquaintances we had. Boston is a very small town.) When we got in front of my apartment building, he made an attempt to get out of the driver's seat, I think to go around the car and open the car door for me. I, however, preempted any such gesture of chivalry by hopping out of the car. I thanked him for a lovely evening and then bolted for my front door. In subsequent phone conversations with this man, he did mention that he did think that was an odd move and that perhaps in my future dating endeavors I should limit myself to a jog instead of the dead sprint.

I obviously did not pay attention to his advice, as this weekend I went out and repeated the same thing. I went to a house party and when I decided to call it a night, a very nice boy said he would walk me out of the building. He held my jacket and I slipped my arms through the sleeves. We got outside the the front of the door of the apartment, when there was an weird lull in our conversation. So I told him we should catch up some other time, told him it was unnecessary for him to go down only to walk up to get back to the party, and then proceeded to flee down 3 flights of stairs at warp speed.

After I recounted these events, to Evil twin #2, A, and my sister, all of came up with the same reaction. "What the hell is wrong with you?" It was general consensus that I just needed to deal with the moment. Go in for the kill if I like the guy or fend him off, but either way my bolting was NOT the right move.

Seeking a little solace, I decided to divulge my story to my mother, during our weekly conversation. My mom is 5 foot and weighs 90 pounds. Although her stature may be slight, she rules with an iron fist of passive aggressive Catholic guilt. (Thank god she is also technologically challenged and therefore will never read this entry.) So when I told her this latest story, I was sure she would agree I made the right decision.

Mom: Why did you do that?

Evil twin #1: No, Mom. I don't think you understand. Things have changed now a days. That awkward pause means you are going to have to kiss the boy.

Mom: Why did you run away?

Evil twin #1: Mom, did you kiss Dad on you first date?

Mom: When I was 29 I was married.

This conversation was obviously not going anywhere, so I began talking about school, my Dad, my five million cousins etc.. At the end of all of my phone calls with my mother she always ends it with, "Be good. You know what to do." And I always answer "Work/Study hard, eat right, and take care of myself." Except this time she added, "And, Evil Twin #1, stop running away. Okay?"

Okay, I will try my best everyone, but it will be sad to lose my trademark move and a fantastic source of aerobic excercise.

ego boost?

My work day is usually pretty boring. It consists of reviewing lots of legal documents--me making sure that all the I's are dotted and that all the Ts are crossed--and the occasional phone call to other counsel and even sometimes directly to the client. I'm pretty junior, so for the most part I'm playing telephone and don't get that much client contact. One exception is this mega-deal that doesn't seem to end. I've had to follow up on tons of little things and because my client's accounting department hasn't been able to get its act together, I've been sending e-mails and leaving voicemails directly with him.

I thought that it was just an ineffeciently run operation, but there seem to be alterior motives. I had left yet another voicemail with Client and he called me back. Here's the rundown:

Ring Ring: Hello, [Evil Twin #2].

Client: Hello, Evil Twin #2.

ET#2: Hello, [Client].

ET#2: I called to follow up [on your accounting department's inability to do its job and to keep the opposing counsel's clients from filling up my voicemail with stupid irritating messages].

ET#2: Do you know if the checks have been sent?

Client: You mean they haven't received anything yet? [feigning disbelief]

ET#2: No, nothing yet.

Client: I'll follow up with [incompetent accounting manager] over here.

Client: Sorry about that, but this gives me an excuse to keep calling you, right?

ET#2: [nervous laughter] Alright, [Client] I'll e-mail you the amounts and the addresses where they should be sent to. [more nervous laughter] I'll speak with you soon.

CLICK.

I left out the boring legal stuff and his bad jokes that I had to laugh at (this was an oscar worthy performance on my part). It's hard to convey in words, but he was blatantly flirting with me.

So, after being told that I look like I'm 24 (when I just turned 29) by some random dude at a restaurant the other night and feeling old because I am used to being told that I look like I'm 21, I am not sure whether I should be (i) flattered by the affections of a very wealthy middle aged orthodox jewish real estate developer or (ii) totally skeeved out. Evil Twin #1 says that I should revel in my shiksa power. I guess that's one way of looking at it.

Procrastination to the max

I often have to remind myself that I am an adult now. I should no longer need looming deadlines, nagging hens, and other devices to get my work done, but, alas, in 29 years I have yet to finish anything before a deadline. Hell, I was even born late. So now that I have a huge proposal due on 17th and have not written one word, I thought it should be the perfect time to update the blog.

On Friday, our lab had a party at noon to congratulate two compadres who has managed to escape this hell, by successfully defending their work. We were all really proud of them and other mushy sentimental stuff. While we were happy for them, the problem with having a party midday is that it reeks havoc with your schedule. Once you start drinking sparkling wine, there really is no going back to work seriously. Of course there is the half-assed attempt at doing work, but come on any work that can be done buzzed probably is not that important at all. I could have stayed late into the night working. Could have, would have, should have. I decided to go out with a friend I had not seen a long time instead.

Saturday, I was going to buckle down. I did get a marginal amount of work done. I did a few experiments, but no work on the proposal. Saturday night, poised in front of my computer, my friend D called to have dinner. "Of course, I'm free to hang out." I said. We went to a local Russian restaurant, Cafe Samovar. A man at the piano banged out, what I imagine to be folk songs from the gulag, and the bright lights reflected off the gold, red and green tablecloths as we entered this little piece of the motherland. The food was excellent, salty, fatty with nary a vegetable in sight. I had the grilled trout with roasted potatoes, while D had the beef stroganoff. We went all out with blintzes, soup and dessert in addition to our entrees. We took our time as the wind was howling and sporadic noreaster rain beat down on the pavement, and we were nice and cozy at our little table. A very romantic setting, omitting the fact that we were gossiping like little school girls and comparing notes on fashion.

Sunday is no longer a sabbath, and I was determined to do work. But CURSE YOU iTUNES!!!! With your tempting, 30 sec tidbits, and user friendly interface. I spent much of the night ripping my roommate B's CDs onto my computer. Yes, the nice laptop purchased for me by the US government for the express use of furthering my scientific training, now houses approximately 1200 choice songs for my listening pleasure. Well, at least I had my computer on and opened.

All I can say to myself is T-172.3 hours and oh wait the Senate wants to trim the Medicaid budget, I guess I should really look into that.....

field trip!

Dali was one weird dude

This past weekend, despite having a mountain of work to do, the boyfriend and I took a little trip to the City of Brotherly Love. Our list of things to see and do included: (i) the Philadelphia Museum of Art to see the Salvador Dali Exhibit, (ii) seeing some old Law School Friends (this is really only on my list, I don't think that the BF really cared either way), and (iii) eating a genuine artery clogging Philly Cheese Steak. I am happy to report that we were able to accomplish all of our tasks.

Philly is a strange town. At times it seems hip and cool, but, unlike Boston, it is comfortable being what it is (in other words, it doesn't try to be "new york"). And at other times, Philly seems like a quaint little town, with great Native American names for everything like Manayunk and Conshohocken. And after seeing M&A's huge 2 bedroom apartment complete with a "sunroom" that rents for less than my rent stabilized studio in Manhattan, it made me long for the 'burbs.

As a child of the 'burbs, I couldn't wait to escape given the chance. But now that I am on the long march towards decrepitude, I find myself longing for trees, grass and sunlight instead of dirty sidewalks, homeless guys that always seem to like me, and the blaring of car alarms. It was great to walk down tree lined streets with M&A and my man... We drove down Kelly Drive, through Northern Liberties and past the Constitution Center and the Liberty Bell. But after seeing the Dali exhibit and trying to figure out how to get back to the train station (there were no cabs to be found), I found myself longing for the chaos of Manhattan. After 20 minutes without a single empty cab, we ended up calling a cab company only to have our cab snatched out from under us and we missed our train. We had to wait for the 11:09 pm SEPTA to NJ Transit Train that got us into NY's Penn Station at 1:20 am. I was dead tired and couldn't wait to get home. The best part about coming home? Being able to hop into a cab at 1:30 am and have it whisk me uptown and back to el barrio no problem.

Fearless, maybe not so much

Crazy, stupid, or fearless call it what you like, but it is a quality I think I have in spades. For the most part being fearless has served me well, today, however, not so much.

I got in a minor argument about science with a junior professor, who was clearly wrong and taking the whole thing way too seriously. Which was unfortunate because I was feeling ornery and I too took it way too seriously. I made once well thought out ideas into an angry mess of words. While most students defer to their elders, I refused. The discussion ended when, the junior professor stamped her little feet and said "I'm finished," as she gave the universal "talk to the hand" signal. We had an awkward ride on the elevator together along with the stunned people who had witnessed all of it. Feeling bad that things got out of hand, I sent a nice little apologetic e-mail and spent the rest of the afternoon getting my blood pressure back to normal. I, also, spent much of the afternoon conflicted between being indignant to being horrified I wasted energy on this incident.

Much later in the day after the argument, a bunch of us got together to send off the boy, on whom I have a crush, off on his globetrotting adventures. It was a nice group outing as we all bantered, nibbled on appetizers, and sipped pints of beer. Now, leading up to this event, I spoke with much bravado about how this was going to be the night when I make my move. I had nothing to lose as I probably would never see him again. I was going to be fearless.

Here is how it played:

8:48pm He comes into the bar. Sits next to me at table. I say "hello" and can think of nothing else to say.

9:00pm He moves seats to better see the Celtics game. Sitting directly across from me. I avert eyes and talk to friend sitting next to me.

9:22pm He gets up to go to the bathroom. Tempted to follow and accost him in the hall for a one-on-one situation. Instead, I continue to talk to friend sitting next to me.

9:36pm He inadvertantly mentions girl he is dating is 5'2". Girl he is dating? what!

10:12pm Celtic game is over. Fun conversation between whole table starts.

10:31pm He leaves the bar to make phone call. I wonder if the call is to that girl he is dating.

10:38pm We all get up to leave. In order to have some contact with him, I carry his backpack out to him. Phone call with mystery person is over.

10:40pm See bus I was supposed to take home speeding away. Gives me an excuse to follow boy and his friend to the bookstore until the next bus comes. Ditch friends to do so, even the nice australian girl I invited to come hang out with us.

10:45pm Enter bookstore. Act nonchalant by going a separate way to browse at books.

10:47pm Give nonchalant up as time is running out. Start by helping him find a decent book on modern China. Other friend nowhere in sight. We giggle about silly book titles.

10:50pm Still frantically looking for a book as the angst ridden twenty something girl informs us that the store will close in ten minutes. Judging books by their covers. Internal thought: are we flirting?

10:56pm Other friend comes to help, but makes sarcastic comments instead.

11:00pm Bookstore closing. Boy still looking for book. I need to leave to catch bus. I shout "Have a safe trip, Boy," as I run outside to catch the bus.

1:10am I write an e-mail to the boy to please remember to send post cards and give work address.

1:12am Regret not giving home address. Regret not giving good-bye hug.

Guess I am not so fearless afterall.

Small town .....Girls' night out Beantown Edition Continued

Boston is a small town or at least my world is.

Saturday night my friend S and I decided to make it a night. I wore a slutty-low-cut-green and pink-silk top with some dark denim. Hair was washed. I even contemplated wearing lip gloss, although I decided against it mainly because I could not find it.

S was already starting her night a little earlier with dinner at the Blue Cat with her sister and our friend C, a boy. By the time I met them they had already tide on a few. We called another friend H, who was ready to have a night on the town with his boys and we were going to make it a posse event. S's sister decided it was time for her to go home and was unwilling to move on to the next bar. Understandable as it was raining, but we were brave souls and decided to continue.

We first went into an Irish Pub in which the general crowd seemed to be aged 40 plus. Not a good scene for two girls and a boy on the prowl. Next destination was 33, the infamous location of Evil Twin#2 beantown girls night out. S decided it was too dark and filled with eurotrash. Making our way back to Boylston and the strip of thirty something bars we lost C, who decided he too just wanted to go home and curse the bad weather.

On Boylston, lines were out the door to get into the regular hotspots. Ridiculous considering the weather. So S and I settled on the City Bar, a quiet hotel bar that tries to be far swankier than it is. S and I got a table, chatting away with our ten dollar froufrou drinks. We met a really nice married couple, well actually the wife was really sweet. Her husband was completely inattentive as he was talking sporting nonsense with his friend. We got in a minor scuffle with some oversexed gals who wanted to steal our seats, while we were sitting there. The night was pretty tame for the most part.

And here is the big moment of the story. The dun-dun-dun part of the drama. I went to the bar to get us a couple of drinks. Unable to get the attention of the bartender, I ask the man in front of me to flag him down. Now this guy seems familiar, but I am slightly buzzed so what the hell do I know. He buys my drink for me, a nice gesture so I stay for a little chat. When I see his friends behind him, I realize OH MY FREAKING LORD. THE MASSHOLES THAT HIT ON EVIL TWIN #2 AND V A MONTH AGO. (Here is the link to the previous encounter. Girl's night out.)

If you do the math, it should not be so surprising that one would meet the same people again. The city of Boston, according the 2000 census, has population of approximately 600,000. About 48% of them are male and 21% are aged from 25-34 years. If you also assume 10% of the population is homosexual, 11% are married, 15% are in committed relationships, and 5% are either homeless or institutionalized that leaves you with the grand total of 36,000 men. Out of that if you take into consideration how many people actually go out (as can be seen by our companions who bowed out early) and you can conclude how my new lifestyle of hitting the town more often is going to result in a lot of these reencounters.

Back to the story. Well, a week after the girls night out, Pete-tah called my friend V. She had given her number out of duress, and was unable to lie quick enough that night. So when he called, it caught her a little off guard. She could not even remember his name, a sign that should have crushed his spirit. Apparently, he is slightly masochistic as he went on to ask her out only to be shot down and this time for good.

Of course, in my second encounter with these boys, V's name came up and awkward conversation ensued. (The groper was wearing glasses by the way. And I could not stop laughing because I was wondering if boys who wear glasses are smaht and sexy.) They were still nice, although no dancing was involved this time. Maybe next time....

All in all, another entertaining night on the town.

FYI, alcohol, even in low quantities, and exercise the next day do not mix.