While on the dole it is of the utmost importance that you stretch every dollar as far as it will go. Nowhere is that more important than on the occasion that you find yourself socially eating or drinking out. Luckily for me, the absurdly overpriced watering holes of Hoboken, NJ consistently run drink specials that adequately allow me to delude myself into thinking that I'm getting what comes close to a good deal.
Yesterday was a dreary, rainy Thursday in the tri-state, and the usual protocol of sending dozens of emails into the black abyss was getting me especially down. I needed to be amongst people, I needed to take my wife out, and most of all I needed a drink. The closest restaurant to our apartment was running a half-priced martini deal, so after an early dinner, I suggested that we head out for a drink or two.
When we arrived at the restaurant, the place was jamming. There were no seats at the bar, so the hostess offered to seat us in the quiet back dining room. I objected, seeing a small table in the corner of the lively bar room, and asked if we could sit there. Big mistake.
As we were delivered the menu listing the dozen or so 'martinis' they offer, a cackle that would put Fran Drescher to shame rose over the crowd. We were seated right behind a woman with the most abhorrently annoying voice I've ever heard. As I argued to my half-listening wife that a drink that mixes creme de cacao, creme de menthe, chocolate Godiva, and crushed Oreo shouldn't interest anyone over the age of 7, let alone be called a martini, I heard a slightly higher pitched voice squawking back at the first. There were two of them, and they were sitting so close to us, it sounded like they were in my brain. Awesome.
These two 30-somethings were bellied up to the bar, and, from the sound of it, they had been enjoying half-priced martinis for some time. It looked like they managed to swallow the couple next to them into their conversation, seemingly not because they wanted to make friends, but they needed to justify screaming at the top of their lungs to a person sitting two bar stools over. The screaming wasn't constant, but when one of them started talking, the next one would start, then the first one louder, then the second one louder until everyone in the large restaurant cowered in fear and clutched their rattling pint glasses to their chests. What did they need to talk so loud about, you ask? Bull shit. That's what. Wall to wall horse crap.
At this point our mini date night had transformed into a prolonged visit to the baboon enclosure at the zoo (if the zoo served (still expensive) half priced martinis). I tried to carry on a conversation, but I found myself constantly needing to comment on these two women. The most note worthy moment came when one of them turned to their hostages and said, nay shrieked, "this gay rights stuff in Russia is crazy! I mean if you love someone and respect them, WHO CARES!!" She then got very serious and leaned in to the politely nodding couple and said, "I am sorry, I didn't mean to get so political." So political? She could not have been more proud of her statement that to my ears sounds like the bare minimum of human decency. You mean you object to people being killed for being gay in Russia!? WOW! Let me get the Nobel Peace Prize people on the phone! They're not going to believe this!
Now for the borderline chauvinistic portion of the program... I'd like to start by saying that I firmly believe that a woman's worth should never be directly tied to her ability to get/keep a man. BUT, that
topic was all these two women wanted to discuss (save, of course, for their brief foray into controversial political matters). They grilled their captive female 'friend' about how she got her man, they shrieked with dread when they both realized that they'd be single for their upcoming college reunion, and they shared one of the saddest hugs ever, fighting back tears as they both agreed that 'we only need each other.'
It seemed to me, that they were looking to find that special someone at half-priced martini night. These two women weren't completely unattractive, and I wanted to tell them (so I am telling you, dear blog reader), that I think they are going about it ever so wrong. No guy is going to approach a boozed up banshee with glassy near-tear eyes. I wouldn't be moved to blog about this if I didn't see this type of woman on an increasingly regular basis. NYC bars are full of these packs of women who seem so confused. On the one had, they gussy themselves up with makeup, low-cut tops and high cut skirts. On the other hand, they are determined to be as drunk and boisterous as the biggest guy in the bar.
We left our table after 3 rounds and the two women were still going strong at the bar. As we stood up, a new couple occupied the table next to ours. I don't exaggerate when I say that they were both plugging their ears and making faces like someone punted a newborn in front of them within 10 seconds of sitting down. "Buckle up," I said to the newcomers as we left the restaurant.
I don't hate these women. Far from it. Not only did they provide us with free entertainment on par with the best Real Housewives train wreck, they also illuminated something about myself. I am advocating for these women to compromise something about themselves in order to achieve their goals of landing their dream man. Would I do the same to land my dream job? I sure as shit don't want to, and neither do they. An attitude that will likely leave those women single, and me unemployed. I'll just make sure to sit in the back of the restaurant next time.
Yesterday was a dreary, rainy Thursday in the tri-state, and the usual protocol of sending dozens of emails into the black abyss was getting me especially down. I needed to be amongst people, I needed to take my wife out, and most of all I needed a drink. The closest restaurant to our apartment was running a half-priced martini deal, so after an early dinner, I suggested that we head out for a drink or two.
When we arrived at the restaurant, the place was jamming. There were no seats at the bar, so the hostess offered to seat us in the quiet back dining room. I objected, seeing a small table in the corner of the lively bar room, and asked if we could sit there. Big mistake.
As we were delivered the menu listing the dozen or so 'martinis' they offer, a cackle that would put Fran Drescher to shame rose over the crowd. We were seated right behind a woman with the most abhorrently annoying voice I've ever heard. As I argued to my half-listening wife that a drink that mixes creme de cacao, creme de menthe, chocolate Godiva, and crushed Oreo shouldn't interest anyone over the age of 7, let alone be called a martini, I heard a slightly higher pitched voice squawking back at the first. There were two of them, and they were sitting so close to us, it sounded like they were in my brain. Awesome.These two 30-somethings were bellied up to the bar, and, from the sound of it, they had been enjoying half-priced martinis for some time. It looked like they managed to swallow the couple next to them into their conversation, seemingly not because they wanted to make friends, but they needed to justify screaming at the top of their lungs to a person sitting two bar stools over. The screaming wasn't constant, but when one of them started talking, the next one would start, then the first one louder, then the second one louder until everyone in the large restaurant cowered in fear and clutched their rattling pint glasses to their chests. What did they need to talk so loud about, you ask? Bull shit. That's what. Wall to wall horse crap.
At this point our mini date night had transformed into a prolonged visit to the baboon enclosure at the zoo (if the zoo served (still expensive) half priced martinis). I tried to carry on a conversation, but I found myself constantly needing to comment on these two women. The most note worthy moment came when one of them turned to their hostages and said, nay shrieked, "this gay rights stuff in Russia is crazy! I mean if you love someone and respect them, WHO CARES!!" She then got very serious and leaned in to the politely nodding couple and said, "I am sorry, I didn't mean to get so political." So political? She could not have been more proud of her statement that to my ears sounds like the bare minimum of human decency. You mean you object to people being killed for being gay in Russia!? WOW! Let me get the Nobel Peace Prize people on the phone! They're not going to believe this!Now for the borderline chauvinistic portion of the program... I'd like to start by saying that I firmly believe that a woman's worth should never be directly tied to her ability to get/keep a man. BUT, that
It seemed to me, that they were looking to find that special someone at half-priced martini night. These two women weren't completely unattractive, and I wanted to tell them (so I am telling you, dear blog reader), that I think they are going about it ever so wrong. No guy is going to approach a boozed up banshee with glassy near-tear eyes. I wouldn't be moved to blog about this if I didn't see this type of woman on an increasingly regular basis. NYC bars are full of these packs of women who seem so confused. On the one had, they gussy themselves up with makeup, low-cut tops and high cut skirts. On the other hand, they are determined to be as drunk and boisterous as the biggest guy in the bar.
We left our table after 3 rounds and the two women were still going strong at the bar. As we stood up, a new couple occupied the table next to ours. I don't exaggerate when I say that they were both plugging their ears and making faces like someone punted a newborn in front of them within 10 seconds of sitting down. "Buckle up," I said to the newcomers as we left the restaurant.
I don't hate these women. Far from it. Not only did they provide us with free entertainment on par with the best Real Housewives train wreck, they also illuminated something about myself. I am advocating for these women to compromise something about themselves in order to achieve their goals of landing their dream man. Would I do the same to land my dream job? I sure as shit don't want to, and neither do they. An attitude that will likely leave those women single, and me unemployed. I'll just make sure to sit in the back of the restaurant next time.
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