Bridget Callahan is Your Best Friend

First, the track. Took some girls there yesterday to watch a race or two. We placed our bets for Belmont, and then took off for the hotel bar, where the only other patrons were a wedding party that gave us curious looks, our t-shirts and betting slips strewn across the table not making necessarily the best first impression. BIG BROWN LOST, and really El Paso Redhead and I were heartbroken, crushed, demolished, deflated, it sucked like a three dollar whore in Mexico he ends up LAST? Can't bear to watch the news to find out why, but maybe now never again a Triple Crown Winner?

Drank at the bar, then went out and fuddled around Chagrin Blvd looking for alcohol, the liquor store goes through several linguistic variations, and people tell me to go Walgreens, but fuck, Walgreens doesn't have alcohol! But it does when it's not in Cleveland? Meaning outside city limits, meaning I guess when they are less worried they will get robbed?

Drank the rest of the night once again, suck the pink out, replace my blood with dirty dishwater. I am feeling particularly dishwater right now, but possibly that comes from sleeping with my clothes, guaranteed to make you look worse than you feel. The rest of the evening shall remain shrouded, cause quite frankly I shouldn't have ever told any of them of the existence of this blog, and then I could write whatever I wanted about that whole cast of characters. All Type A they tell me, they insist I am too, guess I'm just too old school on the personality types, or maybe I never got along well with the letter A, and its true I don't like names like Allen or Alicia, or proper nouns like Angstrom or adjectives like avuncular, which surprisingly would have felt very at home last night being applied liberally. In the last sentence I wrote, I used A 17 times. I have to learn to accept ALL the letters of the alphabet, not just the round ones. But round little girls like round little things. That's a meaningless little sentence. Not enough A's.

Okay, so now I'm off tangent. This has been a weird week. No Sean around, no more Hillary, no Big Brown, the things on which the spring was built are withering in this heat. I need cooler climates, or to shed the protective layers of undercoat around me. I need to brush the loose furry stuff out of my brain, get it sleek and smooth and wet again.

Unfortunately, that's probably not happening this weekend, so we'll just have to wait till next weekend. Again. Next weekend, I'm drinking tea.