Bar tacos.

One Saturday after work after a big basketball game that the local university team ended up losing in a really disappointing way, I ended up heading across the street to this (old) (townie) dive bar, and a big group of people way down at the other end of the bar had this big aluminum catering tray of stuff out and so I assumed that they had brought in food for some party like maybe for a party around the game, and then when I was on my second beer, the (older) (short-haired) (dyed blonde) (fatter) (back-tatted) (female) bartender brings it down to our end of the bar and dumps it there and says that there’s tacos for anyone who wants them.

And, I grab one and unwrap it from the tin foil and it’s amazing, and so I ask her when she’s back over by me who brought it in and she says a regular, and later when a (young) (white) guy in (team) gear by the bar grabs a taco after I point them out to him and he asks who brought them in, I tell him that, and he just nods solemnly and is like, “They’re the real hero tonight.”

Later, too, since I’m still unclear on the situation, I ask that same bartender again when she’s back over by me if that regular works at a taqueria or has money to burn or what, and at that she just laughs and is like, “Both!”, and then she says that the regular is the owner of a regional taco chain that she names by name, he comes in here a lot and he does that every so often for people, he just brings in a huge thing of tacos for all the people who are hanging out drinking so they can have a good time.

. . .

(I end up eating two there and take one to go when no-one else is eating them, and then like at 3am or 4am that night I wake up with this just horrendous heartburn from the spicy red sauce that all the bits of steak were covered in, though luckily I have some Tums that were left me by the one [worked out] [STEM] [Brazilian] when he moved, and so I chew a few of those and am able to go back to sleep again right away, no problem.)

College application lingo.

The other week when I was texting a (Welsh-American) friend from college and the subject of his son's college applications came up, he mentioned that it seemed to them that Duke was "a high reach," to which I replied -

Not the change the subject, but "high reach" sounds like you're trying to jack someone off who's like 6'5"

- to which he replied -

It does seem a bit like that in practice.

. . .

(. . .) 

Bathroom sink sight...

...as I brush my teeth after breakfast, and prop up my smartphone on the against-the-wall high-and-tight elevated sink-ledge in order to watch some video as I brush:

Something falls out from behind the phone and lands in a small pool of water to the left of the faucet on the counter-top surrounding the basin where water tends to pool for some reason, probably because the counter-top has a backward slant that doesn't allow water to drain more easily into the basin, but instead directs it away from it, and anyhow there on the sink there is a very small light yellow centipede like the size of a fingernail clipping, only thinner, or at least there is one there until I cup my hands and put water in them and throw it on the bug in order to flush it down the sink into the drain, there.

Another line I've used at my new job...

 …at the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, whenever I start expounding on how the house cocktails are not only well-mixed, but also very reasonably priced:

"And remember, the more you drink, the more you save."

A line I’ve used at my new job…

…at the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, whenever someone who seems chill enough orders a “Mick ultra” (Michelob Ultra):

Me: “Ahhh, a Mick ultra… The favorite drink of my friend’s ex-wife.”

. . .

(True story. They also usually don’t know what to say and I usually say this to the [macho] [white] guys who drink that shit, although once someone was like “Well, that’s something” and then said no more, which I guess is a lot like not saying anything at all in response, I guess.)

A mild joke at my new job…

…at the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, when the managers are finally cutting me for the night but also seem unsure about whether to do so, yet:

Me (in game show voice): “Is that your final answer?”

Addendum.

I've come across work by people who have major institutional positions, like curatorships and stuff, and it's like, ERP.

And, these are major well-known places, too!

It's like a colleague who works on a different language family and who's given me good advice has observed to me when I relate stuff to him about the field, "What is this backwater?".