While Corona, Guinness, wine, gin, margaritas, and Jameson’s might get along just fine when they lounge shelved at the local mercantile I do not suggest that you invite them to a party together, especially if they intend to come over in the same car, or more to the point – in the same stomach. Ouch.

It always starts innocently enough. My sister wanted to take her dog Silver to the dog park so she came and picked me up. I didn’t want to take Sebastian, as he does not always play well with others. Silver had a good time at said park, but the owners of the various dogs were icky. One woman had a dog that attacked several others and her response was to check the victim dog’s tags to see if they had a right to be there. Vick asked me, “Are you sure this isn’t Creve Cour? These bitches are awful.” “Yeah, I think we should go get a beer.” “I am becoming reverse pretentious as I age, the more airs people put on the less I think of them.”

So we took Silver up to the loop. Gorgeous day. Brandt’s was packed and Riddle’s wasn’t open yet so we sat at this new Mexican place where the laundry mat used to be, just down from blockbuster. I used my wait skills to carry out a plate of nachos, a cup of ice for the dog, a Corona for me and a Margarita for Vick and we wiled away the day doing the bustling city people watch. That margarita fit the day so well that I switched up for the second round. Vick wants to move to this part of town when T graduates from high school. She’s a gregarious person and plenty of random people stopped to chat about Silver.

Two Bosnian guys sat next to us and bummed Vick Menthols. Their rolling banter had absorbed only the colloquialism “fuck”. After a long talk about the cult we were raised in we decided to take the dog back to mine, and return to the loop sans canine to catch the jazz at Riddle’s and then we were out, first for music with wine and then on to Amp to meet Hannah and her new girlfriend. I could write in more detail, but I need coffee and then it’s off to help John move.