Now I Know

A friend thought it would be funny to take me to his favorite Gaysian (get it? Gay + Asian = Gaysian) bar for their country night, which happens the first Saturday of the month, and to be honest, I thought it would be funny, too. I was really looking forward to having my picture taken with a bunch of Gaysian Cowboys, but I guess there's not really a big draw for that, because the crowd was (disappointingly) much more straight than that. However, I was happily surprised that Mike Stinson was playing that night (we were standing outside so my friend could have a cigarette before we went in. We could hear the band playing, and my friend saw a look of recognition pass over my face. "You know this song?" "No, I think I know the singer!" And I was right. I'm that damn good, people).

The only way you really know the Stone Bar is an Asian bar is it's a) in the middle of Thai Town, and b) there's a very large Buddha on the counter). So no pics of me with Gaysian Cowboys (but can someone arrange that?!), but I did have a great time. And I learned that I don't like duck. We went to eat at a Thai restaurant afterward, and in my drunken stupor, all I could remember was that my friend Britta (who is much more cosmopolitan than I am) loves duck. So I thought I'd order it. About half-way through, I realized I was eating duck, and couldn't eat any more. And when I got home, and was still thinking about having eaten duck, I threw up. Not from drinking. From duck.

But at least now I know.