Summertime drinking

I’ve been hitting the bubbly pretty hard. Got a case of it, 15 bottles, on Friday. Only three left.

The bubbly in this case is San Pellegrino.

I have a tremendous affection to this stuff (aiiee, brand loyalty) because I had so much of it in Italy as a kid. It’s probably no better or worse than any fizzly water.

I can’t talk to her. She’s against shit she can’t even pronounce.

The Midnight Van

After last night’s fun, I went to bed at 6 am and slept until 2. The rest of the day was… slow. Fortunately nothing else broke at work. I was bummed at missing Nicole’s wedding, but there was no way that mission could have been accomplished without loss of life.

I finally dragged myself out of the house after dark and bought food, etc. I ended up at Ruba, which was full of weird ghosts of ten years ago. I don’t think I’d seen Sabrina since Indian Burial Ground Night at Totally Coffee. She didn’t acknowledge my existence, for which I am grateful.

Choice “Overheard at Ruba™” quotes:

“I live the same place she does. She has a nice rack. It’s been okay.”

“Oh, that Dennys. One of my best friends got busted for selling drugs to a minor there! It was awesome.”

“You and I have a lot the same background, but you’re good-looking.”

“You know her. She’s the racist secretary.”

“I know it was illegal before, I asked you how old is she NOW?”

“No, man, I can’t afford any tools. I just do shit to shit, you know?”

Ahh, Ruba.

It was 80 degrees F here at midnight with humidity around 50%. In coastal Orange County. I do not understand.