Can you hear me now?

Last night was interesting and a half.

Event of the evening: a noshie summit at Bizkette's new digs. I love her new place, by the way, it's so retro-revival kitschy and funky. And it suits her so well, she's kitschy and funky like that.

So before we go to her house, we stop by the liquor store. Guy behind the cash counter was just a tad too happy to see us. His face just lit up and he was all:

"Heyyyyy! How are you girls tonight?"

I'm not sure what was up with that. It couldn't be that he had seen us before, making us "regulars." We'd never seen these guys work this store before.

So yeah, we pick out our drinks. Mr. Enthusiasm goes at it again.

"Hiiiiii, cutie-pie girl! Big party tonight?" (I swear on John Travolta's beautiful blue eyes this guy called me "cutie-pie girl.")

"Uhhh, no, these are gifts, actually."

"I'm sorry *big grin* Can I see some identification, please?" (I guess we weren't "regulars" or a case of mistaken identity or else he wouldn't have asked for our IDs.)

I was floored. I haven't been asked for my ID in ages. Surely this guy was kidding, right? I don't look 17!

We hand him our IDs. He looks them over carefully.

"Ahhh, you're very good friends! Same age!"

I don't know what being the same age has to do with how good of a friendship two people can share, but whatever. Wonder what he thought to himself when he noticed we were way beyond being 18?

"Ok, you girls go have good time!"

Bizkette was a wonderful hostess, concocting this snazzycakes drink for Daisy and I that was quite similar to a mojito but tangier. Mmm. And she made some spinach and artichoke dip. We heart Bizkette.

One of the highlights of the evening: deep-fried goodness. Bizkette had just bought, that very day, a snazzy deep-fryer. Daisy's mind went racing. Apparently, they deep-fry everything into oblivion over there in England. And being that Daisy is perpetually on an England slant and there was access to a deep-fryer we went on a frying spree.

Off Daisy and I went for a short jaunt over to Mac's to acquire some deep-fryable fare.

To give us a taste of the United Kingdom as only she knows how, Daisy purchased a loaf of Wonderbread and some Mars bars.

I, being defiant and feeling mischievous, bought a box of McCain's Pizza Pockets simply 'cuz the label said "Baked, not fried."

And so we were back Chez Bizkette. First we fried some bread. It was good, but crazy greasy. Good heavens!

And then we fried some of Bizkette's pitas so that we could use them for the spinach and artichoke dip. Yum yum.

We followed that up with deep fried Mars bars. Don't ask...apparently it's big in the UK...it was good but not earth-shatteringly so.

Tossed the pizza pockets in there. Mmmmm. I'm convinced it's the yummiest way to eat those things now. It's also ridiculously wrong, though.

Ended it off by trying to deep fry a banana. It didn't get crunchy or anything, but it sure tasted fantastic together with the Mars Bar. :)

I finally saw Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Benicio, baby, you let yourself go for that one! Holy beer belly.

But Johnny Depp, seriously, never disappoints. I thought he was terrific in the movie.

Ok, Bizkette's tired and she has to work the next day. Daisy and I are yawning a bit. Time to call a cab.

We waited half an hour for a cab. They had said 15 minutes. I called again.

"We have no records of your call." Whaaaat??? So they sent another one.

I then got a call on my cell about 15 minutes later. Supposedly the cabbie was waiting outside already. I look out the window. There's noone there so I tell mr. headquarters that.

Cabbie still insists to hq that he's outside, I walk out and take a look around the corner and see no cabbie. I then describe my surroundings (I was standing outside a closed up grocery shop.) They ask me the address again and I repeat it to them again. Mr. HQ confers back and forth between me and cabbie who's supposedly there. I read off the two street names at the intersection I'm at and this is relayed back to cabbie. Cabbie says he's right there. I'm thinking cabbie is a total liar and doesn't know how to read street signs. Finally I see a taxicab approaching.

And the cabbie had the nerve to snap at me once Daisy and I got in.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT ADDRESS THIS IS?"

*thinking "BASTARD!"* "Yes, it's 1--- 1-th Ave SW. It's right here on the corner of 1- St. and 1- Ave." (Jerk!)

The ride home was fairly uneventful after that until it was time to drop off Daisy. It was one of those ridiculous (though I'm sure they're useful for other taxi customers) taxi minivans so I had to open the door to let Daisy out. But rather than step out first I just swung my legs around and squidged myself into a ball so Daisy could get past me. After I had closed the door and swung back around to face forward the cabbie was had this creepy look on his face, I swear he had been looking at my assneck. He slowly raised his eyes up back so that we were eye to eye. Auggh *shudders* That's just wrong. Noone checks out my assneck and when someone actually does it has to be a creepy snappish cabbie?! Gah.

And the whole drive from Daisy's house to mine he kept looking back at me. I wanted to scream at him: JUST DRIVE! And then he did that creepy looking-me-over business again when I paid him the fare. And I'll bet he watched me again as I clamored out of the minivan.

Why can't hot guys do that? It'd be a lot less creepy and traumatic. :)

Anyway, so yeah, Saturday night: Bizkette's new spot= yay! Incompetent and lecherous cabbies = boo. Big boooooo!