Pot Shot

Norman was in town late last week, interviewing at some prestigious law firms. He has the tough decision of choosing which firm to ally himself with. Brand loyalty aside-the firm he interned with last summer--his dream firm which may in fact be as elusive as Harvard and another top-notch option. He crashed with me on Friday night and headed back to Summit to stay with the family on Saturday night.

During his short time with me...he doted on my dog, regaled me with stories and focused his energy on the choice at hand. Tommy and Special K joined us out with a pit stop at Ike's--Norman's law school buddy who he insists is straight but Lord knows I've never met a cattier Queen--for some 420. The puff puff pass made one go around before Ike got antsy and we headed out. Net effect=0.

Ike then proceeded to skip my recommended Butter stop--whence Norman could spend his $50 dinner allowance on some drinks--saying he didn't want to walk down St. Marks. Why the hell not? Why live in the village if you're going to frown on St. Marks? I mean that's like living on 45th and 8th Ave. and whining about Times Square. Boo.
We made it to the Hibernian Swift Lounge for 1/8 of a minute and promptly made our way to Cooper 35 where we sat in the chilly evening wind chugging $4 drinks to warm up. Norman's loyalty returned and he returned to the Lounge to Ike. Gary had joined us at this point and I felt comfortable ducking out of what I felt no obligation to join--IKE! We popped next door to B Bar instead.

When Norman attempted to maintain dual loyalty he was foiled. The bouncer at B Bar wasn't about to let in a pack of younger guys on a busy Friday night, so Ike and crew vanished with Norman in tow. It's hard to be a good guy. Norman keeps on trying and there's merit in that.

I learned long ago that nice girls are boring--and I sure ain't boring