Buzzard

At work yesterday, I was looking through a log and then started laughing because I had, at first glance, misread something. Obviously, I've been entertaining at least the "idea" of sugardaddies, and so it's on my mind. So I read, from one female employee making an entry in the log: "I already did the sugardaddies."

I had to look again. Her "c" looked like a "d". She had actually written, "I already did the sugarcaddies." So I was cracking up about this, because at first glance, I'm thinking, "What the h---?" "I already did the sugardaddies." Like it was a personal note to ME. Hey, by the way, don't even bother, because I already did the sugardaddies.

Then, last night I went out with a friend and had a couple of drinks at a bar where there was karaoke. For the first time in my life, I had someone ask me where they could get some drugs, or if I knew anyone who could help them out. They were from Germany but I think American too. I'd been talking with them all night, and hearing their stories, and then they used some kind of code to ask me. I didn't know what in the world they were talking about until they called it the mystical herb or something, and I caught on. They said they just wanted a little bit, about 20 lbs. I leaned over to my friend, who acts like a cop even if he's not, and asked him if he knew of anyone and he said he didn't. I figured I'd pass on information, but I was hands off and staying out of it. I sang a Bon Jovi song with the woman. I was only 4 days older than she was. She really had a pretty accent.

I had 3 appletinis over the course of the night, with dinner as well, but one of my martinis sloshed all over my coat after 2 sips so I probably had only 2 1/4. I could really feel it and when I got home, my roommate asked me, teasing, "So, are you a drunkard?" and I replied, "No, I'm a buzzard."

He stopped and goes, "What?!" in a somewhat serious tone, and said, "You like to eat dead things?" and I said, "No, if I were drunk you could call me a drunkard, but I'm just buzzed, so you can call me a buzzard." I said this very matter-of-factly, and he said, "No, I can't do that, and he reiterated what buzzards were and what they did, and then he asked if I was a necrophiliac." "No..." I said, and I repeated the drunk-drunkard/buzz-buzzard equation laughing, and hopefully not slurring my words. He still didn't like it. I kept calling myself a buzzard and he couldn't get the picture out of his mind.

Then, resigned to it, he laughed and said, "Okay, Buzzard..."

I probably was a little bit drunk. I almost fell out of my seat and stumbled a little on the dance floor. Then, I spotted the dart board, and had a sudden passion to throw darts. I got some of them in the bulls-eye thing but most were not. I had to pull them out of the board and the tip separated from the rest of the dart and at least I noticed, and pulled it to to screw it back on. Then someone started cracking jokes and a few darts hit the board with the wings and just fell to the ground.