Chocolate Vagina

I try not to kill myself but I work hard every day. Today all that work pays off as I begin several weeks of holidays, also known as fucked up time, until the new year. Working in the same place year after motherfucking year has few benefits except the vacation time. For the next five weeks it will not be a cup of coffee I will be leaning over in the morning, it will be a beer, the breakfast, lunch, dinner and late night snack of the Canucks.

Sonja is off until the new year same as me. We had planned on going to the rink to see a hockey game but decided at the last minute to get dinner at the New Place Where the Old Place Used To Be instead.

Sonja drove so I got to drink. I love my Sonja. She is my best friend. I ordered up some house red while we figured out what to eat. I had pre-scouted The Place so I knew there were a few things for vegan Sonja to choose from. The house red wine was good, better than the sangiovese I had knocked back a bottle of before we left the Hammer to guard the house. Restaurants should have a deal for when you order a gallon of their house wine.

Our waitress turned out to be the owner's fuck buddy. She was sweet as maple butter. She was one of the waitresses that served me when I checked the place out previously. If you want to check out a restaurant properly, leave the old dear behind and do it yourself. A date can be so distracting, what with their boobs, perfume and all.

Our waitress asked me, "Where's the Hammer?" same as the Old Place waitress used to ask me when I did not have the dog looking at us with her big brown eyes through the foggy window.

Sonja told her, "She's back at home barking at the crackheads out the front window."

"That's so cute!" came the reply. It is true. There are few things cuter than a drooling dog barking at neighbourhood junkies.

Our food was great. We have found a new neighbourhood restaurant we love. With our dessert I had some kind of martini. It tasted like chocolate vagina. It was the first martini I ever liked. I am going to have to tell my martini pusher mom the name of the martini and tell her Sonja and I may have to reserve their spare room one night very soon.

As we dined a parade of punk rockers strolled by in their wet leather, studs and let's fuck society slogans. The punkhouse around the corner from the restaurant must be hosting five buck parties again.

Sonja too watched Sid Vicious' children waiting to use the crosswalk outside. "It is hard to believe there are still people dressing like we did 30 years ago, eh Beer?"

After swallowing my mouthful of wine I agreed. "For some kids the world will never have a future I guess. I bet the pills in their pockets would go good with this wine."

Sonja shook her head. "You stay away from the fucking pills. Remember what happened the last time you mixed wine and pills?"

I did not.