Despite having an awesome Tom Waits-ey gravelly voice, despite being comfortable with my sexuality in a pink shirt and tie combo, and despite forgetting my watch and wedding ring on the counter at home, I didn't manage to pick up any chicks at the BikeCo holiday party last night. M.Bro was always hanging around, being all "How is your dinner?" and "Why do you keep pretending you don't know me?" and "Hey - get your hands off of her!" By the end of dinner, though, my Waitsian growl had turned into a whisper again and I couldn't make myself heard over the band. Even though the paper and pen would make it really convenient, it's tough to get numbers when you have to write a note to ask for them. So we left pretty early.
Low point of the evening - M.Bro ordered a cosmopolitan - it was an open bar, but apparently there were selected excluded drinks. As he was setting our drinks in front of us, he bartender, who could have saved quite a bit of hassle for everyone, said, "The beer's on the house, but I gotta charge you for the cosmo - that'll be $9.25." Ummm - OK, I said, and tried to hand him my debit card. "Sorry - cash only," he replied. "Nope - no ATM in the building," he responded to my next question. So the low point of the evening was M.Bro and I leaving the party to find an ATM to pay the bartender for a problem that could have been solved very easily by him saying, "Just so you know - I have to charge you for the cosmopolitan" when M.Bro ordered it instead of after he made it.
High point of the evening - Jordan's girlfriend, Rachel, telling our table about the time she fell off a cliff while mountain biking in California, and Jordan responding, "That wasn't a cliff - it was only, like, 20 feet!" That's love, right there.