Meet Peter.
Peter's a very good friend of mine, and does not typically appear as he does to the right. Be that as it may, he can get very passionate or ridiculous or provoking and seems to do so at alarming frequency. Take last night, for example.
On this particular evening, I do suspect that many a change that Peter (as well as all of us) has no control over is starting to get very much under the skin, so to speak, and he was in prime form lashing out against Chris the bartender's taste in music. In other words, Peter would not be considered a fan of early 80's pop/rock, and would much rather listen to more obscure music from that era or any other, for that matter.
One might easily stop right there, having explained it quite succinctly.
Alas, no -- For Peter railed on, citing the music piped into supermarkets and on the radio, played at the tavern, all in the name of the new nostalgic demographic: Us. That is, folks in their late thirties to early forties, who are bemused by listening to the songs that were played whilst in high school. Excepting my aggravated friend, of course.
Tainted Love,
Relax, and let's not forget
Jenny (you know Jenny, 867-5309 and all that). Oh, and John and I were teasing him rather mercilessly about it. I thought a vein would pop on at least a couple of occasions.
On and on he raged, compounding his argument with more and more vulgarity, peppering it with spittle and slamming the point squarely into the table whenever possible.
After quite too much of this, the conversation suddenly and unexpectedly swerved to discussing Jamie Lee Curtis (along with some other actresses) who have become fairly well known for exposing their -ahem- assets in certain movies. At first I noticed little, however before a short time had passed I came to realize that the tone had gone from hot red to a cooler yellow, and finally mellowed into a greenish blue. Seems that the talk of titillation and mammaries had calmed Peter down considerably, and not because he's one to be easily distracted from his point by a pretty face -- In fact, he's very much a focused individual when it comes to making his point, however violently or in most cases, completely reasonably.
No, I believe the discussion of the female bosom was proof of the old adage, "Ah, breasts -- They hath charm to soothe the savage music."
Hey, I won second place in a pool tourney this weekend. The tourney was for a triple birthday of sorts, which made me realize what an utter cliche my tavern is: Celebrating were Jerry the Bartender, New York Tony, and Carl the Mauler. Pretty sure I don't have a nickname like that just yet.
