Confusing Night

I had a plan that after Friday Night Lights I would head down to the stripclub, see if I wanted to get any laps, then head to the coffeehouse for some late-night writing.

My first mistake was missing the exit to the strip bar. So I had to go to the next exit and then go back ... except that the next exit was miles away. Sigh. So I decide to flip my destinations and hit the coffeeshop.

But then I saw the barricades. Ah, shit, I forgot the Uptown Art Fair. So now I have to worry about parking problems as I slither into my favorite coffeeshop. And then I realize that the barricades are going to prevent me from going out the usual way and I have to back up. Furthermore, once I went inside the house (and it's an actual house, it just has tables and chairs), I saw that the locked the upper floor. I like the upper floor because it's private and it has many plugs for my laptop. Without that, there's no use in staying.

So I didn't. Instead I went to my second-favorite coffeeshop just up the street. There I was debating whether to get a hot mocha or a cold press. I figured I was going to go to this place again the next couple of days, and they're going to be a lot more humid than it was today, so I got my usual at this place, a hot mocha.

Then I realize that I hate the mochas here. Why didn't I just go get a cold press? Whatever, too late. On top of that I get sort-of surly customer service from the girl when I asked for whip cream on my mocha. She has a right to tell me that they only put it on request, but we didn't get off on the right foot, either. Finally, I put two quarters in the tip jar when I intended to only throw in one. It slipped out of my palm.

Did get my column sent, so off to the stripclub. The one sort-of annoying one, the one whose dances are always air but she seems quite friendly in conversation, asked me for a lap. I acknowledge a girl needing to hustle, but I just had to say no, at least for now. She's really nice, and I feel like I should reward her persistence, but maybe I'll do it tomorrow or Sunday.

And ... that's my night.