Steve - beard, jesus, Monokokolokis
Doug - saab, Eames chair
Dale - elusive
godparents
real uncles
I drink in moderation said Shamus O'Heenihy, yes I do. Do I take drugs to excess? Aye, I do that. Do I ever! But I drink in moderation, as I was telling you.
Dexter was nothing if not grandiose. Everyone said so. His closest friend Brad accused him of harboring "delusions of grandeur" when he set his eyes on Virginia, Brad's mother's best friend and neighbor.
"I beg your pardon?"
What had I just said? Rewind short-term memory buffer:
"How's your biological clock doing?"
Holy shit.
It was 7 pm in New York City. We'd both flown in from the west coast that morning to attend a conference and had been going nonstop all day. Now we were eating faux Louisiana food on the lower west side. It was noisy. Conversations were crisscrossing the table as a bunch of mostly young turks tried to transcend the social clusters they came in with.
I tossed it off as an aside to my my friend from San Francisco: How's your biological clock doing? She's younger than me but not much younger. Married with an invisible partner. Child-free as far as I know, but those weren't the words I had intended to summon up. I'd been trying to keep it light.
Nanosecond ticked away as I stared at her incredulous eyes with a look of idiocy on my slack face.
"Wait, no sorry," I said, "No, scratch that my bad," syllables rushing to get out of a burning edifice and crashing into each other at the exit.
"I meant, how are your circadian rhythms?"