There's Country Music in the UK....... and Crazy People Love Me

So much for my boring Friday night - my weekend seems to have flip-flopped. I spent last night in Brooklyn bars on Atlantic Avenue with Autumne, getting hit on by some really ghetto black guys.

And then tonight, which I assumed would be a bit crazier, going out with Jackie, seems to be the lazy night. I've spent the last hour finding a country radio station on the web (the best one that's loud enough with my puny speaker is from the UK... I never knew Brits listened to country music. EVER. And the fact that someone is saying "Kenny Chesney" with a British accent does NOT fail to make me smile.

Todd is off with his parents tonite - now I know for sure that someone is lamer than I am. I think if Jackie doesn't call me back (which may be a likely case) I'll just going to end up doing stuff I should catch up on, like homework.

Yeah, the joke of the grad program at Pace does give homework once in a while. Our midterm project for the godawful class I described earlier is a five page paper on something for Time Inc. I should be able to do it with a hangover....

SPEAKING OF HANGOVERS: I got a very funny call last night at 4am from a very drunken Todd on his bday and an even better VM from him - literally 10 minutes long, or very close! He was so drunk his voice sounded different, and when I was speaking with him in a drunken, sleepy haze last night I didn't notice what it was, but this morning I realized it - the reason I knew it was because it sounded like Adam!! The inflections, the pauses, everything!! Which I thought was pretty funny. Todd's drunk voice sounds like Adam's drunk voice. I should do an investigative study that EVERYONE sounds like Adam when they get drunk - or maybe not.

I think Autumne's STILL passed out from our adventure last night. Her away message says "I'm never going to drink again" and she's a lightweight, and I had a nasty hangover this morning, so I don't even want to think about that poor girl's condition.

I guess NOW is a good time to tell you about the crazy guy in the Park. Normally, it's too cold for the crazies to really come out. But today it was over 50 degrees for the first time in at least a month here in the city, so everyone was in the park. (This, mind you, is the first weekend I've had my Park back - no pesky Gates, no pesky Alison - although that was fun, there's nothing like being by yourself with your music.)

I went the long way again today, b/c I love the Harlem side of the transverse. Plus, there's not a lot of people that go that far north. So I was up there, in my little tshirt and track pants (it was that warm) and I notice this older guy in an argyle sweater, sweatpants, and rollerblades on the side of the tranverse. I happened to be changing songs on my Ipod and he said "Ipod!" or something similar while looking all wily (this is seriously the best word) at me. So for the next couple of miles, he stayed on his blades either a hundred yards ahead or behind of me yelling "whoo hoo" at people and generally muttering to himself. I wanted to ignore him, so I jumped up onto the reservoir path that runs along the west side of the transverse, hoping that he would give up.

BUT NO. He stayed on the transverse, since that's the only paved part in that section and literally kept even with me. I finally snaked past him when I stopped to stretch near the 72nd street exit and he couldn't stop that long without being obvious....

The more I thought about it and how I was creeped out but not threatened. It reminded me of my dad and the stupid shit he does. My father certainly wouldn't FOLLOW anyone for much longer than a few yards, especially if they seemed creeped out instead of the usual "uncomfortable" response my dad gets. I was mostly pissed off that I had to worry about this weirdo instead of enjoy my Stevie - which I saved for the end to give me a boost of energy.

It's Seven PM, and I still haven't heard from Jackie, which isn't the greatest of signs, but whatever. I really wouldn't mind a night to chill - I just hate when they run together. Friday night In, Saturday OUT, and Sunday IN is fine, but it just feels loserish to be Friday OUT, Saturday IN, Sunday IN, like I'm already in my thirties (no offense Joe) and only go out after work.. Ewww..

Starbucks guy (Diallo) just txted me and said that he just got into the airport after travelling all week. I'm not sure if I believe him, but it's still nice to get a call finally. He said he'd call me on the cab ride, and maybe he'll want to go out - but the question is, do I want to go out with him, all by my little self? Plus now I'm all comfy in my sheer tank top that's giant on me since I slept in it last night and shorts that smell like ass because I always wear them working out and Afro-I-took-a-bath-and-then-laid-down-to-read hair, smoking cigarettes and seriously considering playing online gin and writing papers all night.

Plus, Todd asked me what I was doing tomorrow, so there may be a chance for weekend sex after all, which I should store up energy for. So who knows. The night is still very, very young.