Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Too Many Hands Under The Table
The Beastie Boys are on the radio. Aaron is slumped over at the table drooling on himself – he’s been drinking whiskey since 2:00 and insisted on playing King’s Cup with whiskey even though we warned him. Whitebread and Billy are engaged in a heated debate about the superiority of Chris Cornell over Eddie Vedder. And I have too many hands on my legs.
I’ve got one hand on each leg to be exact. And they each belong to a different person. Don’t they know what assholes they look like? Hand One belongs to a scraggly-haired, tattooed, MBA student who is trying to start his own energy consultancy. Hand Two belongs to a clean-cut, mild-mannered, drummer in a band who has lived in Aspen for four years now. Seems like the circuits got crossed somewhere when God created this two walking contradictions.
Damn shame that Mr. Tattooed-MBA had to show up tonight. Where has he been hiding for the last three months? My style is completely being cramped.
I raise my eyebrows at Summer across the table. She’s watching whole thing. She shrugs as if to say, “Looks like you’re SOL.” My horoscope the other day said, and I quote, "Stop being such a whore. People are starting to ask questions." Thanks astrology. Either way, I’ve got too many hands on my legs and their owners don’t seem to notice, or care.