Pocket Pal Goes to the Ballgame

14 Nov

I went through this period in my life when on Friday afternoons my friend, Sandra, and I could often be found installed on barstools drinking delicious $12 dirty martinis at Houston’s.  We worked really hard at our jobs and were depressed about the condition of our social lives and the lack of suitable men.  James, the best looking and most talented bartender in the United States of America, would tell us how charming and beautiful we were.  In that period of time I think I spent more money at Houston’s than on my mortgage.

Anyway, one afternoon I had the brilliant idea to take my tiny little boss with me – probably because I wanted to leave work early and it was the only way I could get out of there.  I had to be really careful since I referred to him as Pocket Pal to all my friends and if I get loaded I tended to slip up on nicknames.  So Pocket Pal gets all comfortable at the bar and he is immediately interested in making Sandra the new Mrs. Pocket Pal.  However, she thinks that is simply not possible as he is old, bald and the top of his head hits at about her navel.  So she excuses herself to attend a work party at the baseball park where she is responsible for organizing some big company function for all of their important customers.  Then she has a serious lapse in judgment.  When I suggested/begged that we come with her to continue the party she LET us.  She really must have fallen and bumped her head that day.

Pocket Pal drove a Lamborghini convertible and he was hot to show it off to his new love interest.  He puts the top down and there we went – me riding in the backseat like a beauty queen waving to my public all the way to the ball field.  Sandra was not even religious and she was asking Sweet Jesus to save her.  Apparently Pocket Pal learned to drive in a third world country because he was weaving in and out of traffic going 90mph.  He was driving like a bat out of hell in city traffic blowing through lights.  My hair was a giant rat’s nest when we arrived.  Sandra gave us strict instructions to pretend we were customers if anyone asked.  She assumed we would blend in with the crowd.

I do not know who was more full of shit that evening – Pocket Pal or me.  We talked about our home building enterprise in AFRICA (the untouched housing market) to anyone who would listen.  We soon drew a crowd who wanted in on our real estate deal – those jackals were all over us.  It was a beautiful evening of baseball on a rooftop in downtown Houston looking over the field.  The team mascot showed up – we were dead center in most of the photos.  I threw my sweater off the roof.  There was a hotdog bar and some lady was trying to talk to me while I was shoving hot dogs in my face.  Train wreck.  My arm was bruised from Sandra pinching me and telling me to shut up all evening.  The mascot even picked up Pocket Pal and held him like a baby at one point.  It was great fun!

So it’s time to leave and Sandra jerks the car keys out of Pocket Pal’s little hand and drives us back to the bar.  She was stone cold sober and m-a-d.  She practically dumped us out on the sidewalk.  Pocket Pal and my tornado hairdo were prominently featured in her company newsletter.


2 Responses to “Pocket Pal Goes to the Ballgame”

  1. Lori Bounds November 15, 2011 at 3:48 am #


  2. Grace November 15, 2011 at 4:30 am #

    love it!

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