A couple days ago, my favorite vendor rep, A, gets a hold of tickets for the bulls game on Wed. While she's dropping off the tickets, she says that she wants to take us out to dinner beforehand, and did I have any preference at all? I didn't, but realized that CB loves this place called the Flattop Grill, and talks about it every time we're downtown. Since I haven't been, and A hadn't been, we decided on that; I was a hero and proved again to CB just how utterly cool I am.
Since the game started at 7:30, A suggested we start eating about 4:15, which means we'd leave from work about 3 pm, and she offered to drive CB and I.
3 pm rolls around yesterday, and Amy gives me a call to let me know she's at the visitors entrance, which is not quite near our cars. I tell CB, and we pack it up, and CB decides that he needs his gloves, and goes to his car to get them and drop off his backpack with the computer. At this point, I'm a bit confused, because it's, well, 50 degrees out, and who needs gloves? In any case, I go to A's car, and after a bit, she swings around my car, I drop off my backpack, and we pick up CB.
The drive down to the city was not bad at all, considering we didn't leave until 3:30. I was talking to A about the company car while CB was on the phone with the friend he'd forgotten he'd made plans with. A bit after he'd hung up, he asked A, "Does your husband drive your car?" I thought he was interested in if the hubby could drive the company car; I should have known better. A responded that he did, and CB said, "Well, you might want to get the 'check engine' light fixed before he gets in it. Yeek! A said that she already had an appointment and the hubby already knew.
I do get him back for this, as A later said she had issues with her check oil light, too; I said, "Oh, well you'll have to have your husband fix that, because we can't fix cars without 'em", and CB was properly chagrinned, and we get to the Flattop without any maiming or other injuries.
If you've ever been to one of those make-your-own stir fry places, this place is so much better than that. You can go up as many times as you want, so the trick is to make a bunch of small dishes and try everything. They had about 20 different types of sauces, compared to the 8 or so the other stir fry places have. Plus, they have a specialty meat of the night, and tonight's was ostrich -- one of my favorites.
We order the first round of drinks: an apple-tini for A, and something called a serpent is the drink of CB's and my choice. It was a bit weak, and I sucked it down in about 6 or so minutes, which was the foreshadowing of the night to come, especially since the whole evening is on A's company bill.
The food was great, and our theater-major gaydar-tripping in-need-of-a-haircut waiter, who was sweetly gregarious, spent the entire evening calling A and I by our wrong names. A got to be Philemina, and I was Amelia. The three hours before the game was spent talking and laughing and involved another apple-tini plus a coffee and baileys for A, a mai-tai and a vodka with oj and cranberry juice for CB, and a cosmo and something called an iced oatmeal cookie for me, along with the amazing food and this incredibly decadent chocolate brownie, topped with ice cream and homemade whipped cream for dessert. Yum.
We made it to the game, and we had awesome 7th row seats; granted, they were for the Bulls, so the game wasn't really that exciting. P, my boss, his two kids and his wife came, and I leaned over at some point to tell Phil that CB was all about the foo-foo drinks tonight. I told A over the course of the evening, that one of these days, poor CB is going to just kill me and if I don't show up at work for a while, that's what happened.
P's kids are adorable, and they loved the game. P's little girl's head was covered with golden ringlets, and she had no fear about going up to the bull mascot and getting a big hug from him. It was awfully cute. A went to get us food and her and CB beer; I don't drink beer, and we thought they didn't have any, as CB had went earlier on a drink run and came back empty handed for me. A, however, was more successful, and came back with a mai-tai for me.
Most of the game was spent with A and I being amazed-in-not-a-good way at the Luv-a-bulls. Those girls changed clothes 4 times in as many quarters! And their cheering? Sucked. CB mentioned that they weren't really that attractive and A and I laughed and said, "So, you're telling me that if one of them came up to you and said, "[CB], please come home with me! I want you!", you'd say no? "Well, no... but that's not going to happen!"
P and family left with about 5 minutes left in the game, as the kids were cranky and needed sleep, and this allowed CB to relax a bit with his language while watching the game -- he'd been awfully good about not swearing in front of the kids, and he showed off his talent with little ones, too. I mentioned to A that CB had not drunk enough, and we needed to work on that -- as a joke, really, but after the game she said 'where to now?'
We made our way via a circuitous route to Bar Louie. I officially like this place. I've never had a chocolate martini before, and this place made amazing ones. And, it's been such a long time since I've laughed so hard for so long.
The conversation went all over the place, from A's need to clean, to her husband's need to play that damn console game she made the mistake of buying, to CB explaining men to us, to us telling him they still sucked. then somehow the suggestion to nuke Afghanistan came up, and CB and I having a spirited discussion about this while we probably scared A off.
Somehow the conversation changed to CB's taste in women, I'm not sure how. At some point he mentioned how he found ponytails attractive, but when we asked him if that was necessary, he said 'No.' This only encouraged us to barrage him for 20 minutes on what was necessary. He stated, "Well, there's a difference between beautiful for one night, and beautiful for five years." When pressed for clarification on what he found attractive, he said "It all depends on the woman -- it could be because she's can set the ball perfectly to you, or it could be because she has a dimple in her cheek when she smiles".
I, of course, being on my Astro-pop martini at this time, let the fact that I have a dimple in my cheek when I smile slide by, because it takes that long to process! Agh!
By this time, the conversation has moved, somehow, to the important question: Which do you choose, "Big, or a guy who has a six inch tongue and breathes through his ears?" This was probably precipitated by my informing CB that, "Sweetie, if they tell you size doesn't matter, they're totally lying to you." That put A into fits of laughter, because she couldn't believe I'd said that! I was on the Printer's Ink martini by that time, though, so it's not out of the realm of possibility. I'm sure that martini helped with the conversation that ensued: I informed CB that there is such a thing as too big, and did he mean, "perfect size vs. the 6 inch tongue" or what? After allowing me that modification I said "Well, duh, perfect size." I was the first woman in the sample size of 7 he had that said that. I think it was just because I was the tipsy and honest one.
CB tried to get A to choose, and she wouldn't. The quote of the evening must definitely have been: "A, it boils down to this, do you want ketchup, or mustard?" A kept saying she couldn't choose, she wanted both!
We closed the bar down, and headed back home. The car ride was pretty quiet, but we managed to glean a bit more out of CB and his woman-taste. We gave him the choice: "Hot chick, or intelligence?" He chose intelligence in a heart beat. That wasn't enough -- we said "So if you had to chose between a hot stupid chick and a not-hot intelligent chick, which would you pick?" To which, he replied, "The intelligent one -- and I've done that before, too."
Hee. It gives me silly hope.
Of course, when we got to my car, I was sober, but bone-dead tired. I thought about sleeping in the next morning, until I checked my pilot and saw that, ugh, I had an 8:30 meeting I couldn't skip.
But oh, the evening was worth it -- I wouldn't have changed a thing.
And, it's good that I never get hangovers, as well.
If you've made it to the end of this post, I commend you.