Went out to dinner again...

With friends who read my blogs.
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The evening had been in the planning stages for weeks. I committed, but no one expected me to show up. (Isn't that sad - they are so desperate for friends.) We ate at a Nazi restaurant - a place that specializes in German food. Although before meeting there, we made a pact not to bring up the war or the holocaust while we were eating. So the food was fairly palatable. Even though we ate outside, you could smell the ovens, as well as the insecticide to keep the bugs away, so naturally I couldn't help think about the concentration camps and all. But I tried not to dwell on it.

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My two dinner companions were so drunk they didn't notice anything until I brought it up.

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As the evening wore on, everyone was talking at once. The woman, who I'll call Kathy, kept applying make-up for the 3 or 4 hours we were there - well not steadily, but on and off. The fellow she was with, whom I'll call Jay, kept kicking me under the table calling my attention to it - then he whispered, "She's watching that guy behind her in her compact mirror." Finally, I just had to say something, "Kath, hon, you have lipstick all over your upper lip and it's even in your nose for crying out loud."

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Anyway, we discussed blogging, and my blogs in particular, since I was pretty much able to talk them down, except for when they yelled out names of local celebrities they knew - "Michael Bayly told me this." The Archbishop told me that!" "Oh Mitchell is so handsome!" "When I was talking to the Mayor..." "Well, when I dealt with Catholic Parents Online, I told..." - just before saying the name, that was when they'd raise their voice for attention... "COLEEN PERFECT..." No, I wasn't embarrassed.

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Then they set their sights on me and started asking really pointed questions such as: "Why are you so mean on your posts? Why don't you like this or that person?" "Why do you have a problem with Germans?" "How much money do you have?" "Have you ever been in a mental hospital?" "Why don't you post your real photo in your profile? Are you wanted by the police?" "Or are you trying to get dates?" "Tell us what you know about this blogger or that commenter."

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I couldn't answer most of their queries because I was hardly able to understand a word they said, and I had just gone to confession anyway. All in all, I have to admit it was a good time. When we finally had enough, we all hugged each other and left. The lady said she had to use the restroom - although I thought she said, "What a farce." (Jay said, "No - she said she had to f@rt." I said, "I hate that word!") Anyway, he just shrugged and we left her there. Halfway to my car I realized I had left my keys on the table and went back to the restaurant. To my surprise, the lady was seated at the bar with a pitcher of beer, apparently trying to text message on what looked like to be the back of a hair brush.