Cocaine in my coffee and my gay shoes

I went out to dinner with Mal and her parents tonight in Mattoon. Had a pulled-pork sandwich that came close to the one I had in Nashville. Close, but not quite. Still good though.

Mal’s mom and dad just got back from a three-week vacation in Australia. The pictures were beautiful, wish I could have gone.

They did bring me back some Australian coffee. I think it has cocaine or something in it… it’s great. Whatever it is, I had one cup, and I am wired out of my mind.

Mal’s mom got a kick out of my gay shoes. It’s true… I have gay shoes. Or at least this guy I ran into in Chicago thinks so.

After game two of the World Series, I’m standing on the “L” platform to head back downtown with a friend from another newspaper. Another guy, who looks sort of lost, walks up to me and asks if the train will take him back to the Roosevelt station.

After I answered that it would, he asked me if I knew where any of the trendy, gay areas of the city are.

Since I’m not from the city, and I’m not trendy or gay, I have no idea. So naturally, I say,” I have no idea.”

His response, which still kills me…

“Sorry,” as he points and looks toward my shoes. “I just figured with the shoes and everything.”

My shoes aren’t anything special… just a pair of brown dress shoes… but apparently they are gay. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

I talked to my sister online tonight for the first time in a few weeks. She had her windshield wiper blades stolen… I found it very amusing. Of all the things you could take from a car, that is probably the funniest. But her roommate had her windshield busted… that is not funny. I’m glad that I’m not living back home right now.

I still need to go home sometime soon. All of my cold weather clothes and jackets are packed in the basement. The weather this week should be fine, but the weekend is supposed to start feeling like November.

Sigh… I hate winters.

Now playing:
“All at Sea”
Jamie Cullum
Twentysomething