3:43 p.m. - 2005-03-14
The landlord said today that he still had people on his list to show the place to.
My first thought was, "Don't you know who I am? I am Zencelt of Assholia. Who wouldn't be grateful to have me as a tenant?" I mean, no begging, no pleading, no laying at my feat to get me to sign a lease.
So I took the leap and called. He invited me over for a jam session with his buddies. Me, at a jam session! I kind of assumed that I wouldn't be expected to sing or play instruments, since I have no skills at either of them. But I sat down, indian style on a nice big chair, settled in, and was handed sticks, rattly tings and a book of songs to choose from.
I'm not sure what they thought of my moose like singing or toddler like banging of sticks, but it was a good time and they were too polite to say anything. It was nice to have cool people to hang with at home. Its not the same as my time in Baltimore, but then, I'm just getting to know BSF really, and it was good to take the risk.
I spent a lovely Saturday in Nap-town with Eastportgrl and Batten after seeing The Apartment and having Queen's tea with Mummie (the things I do to keep the peace).
I was fed fantastic cheesy polenta, rosemary chicken and sauteed spinich by Eastportgrl. Her polenta is the stuff of legends... It beats my plain polenta topped with a fat free cheese slice by a long shot. Its foodpornographic.
We then headed out in a cab with an entourage including Miss Batten and her Fry Boots (now I know what the hell they are), and her merry band of friends from VA and NYNY. We swung out to the local sailor watering hole, where I consumed much vodka, then proceeded to do a bit of a bar crawl activity. The bands were good, the men distant and the friends pretty and animated.
Sunday was spent in hydration therapy to make up for all the vodka.
On that note, I'm going to get more water...