The Brewhouse

After work yesterday I went to The Brewhouse for happy hour with a friend from work. Jackie is great; only 25 and married already two years. I'm her official "mentor," but really, we have fun hanging out together.

Anyway, the food is good, the beer is wonderful, and the prices (at least until 6:30 pm) are fabulous. It makes up for the fact that it's the LOUDEST place in town. And that's before the live music starts up.

I don't know what it is about that place. Everything echos off of everything else, and it's hard to even think, let alone have a conversation.

Noisy places get to me. I mean, not an amusement park or a concert, but restaurants and bars. I know, what an old lady I am. But I've always hated it. I like talking (have you noticed?), and I like being with my friends. I don't like the way my voice takes on a screeching crow quality when I raise it over the din to be heard. I don't like having to ask someone to repeat something 16 times because I can't catch it when it's said at a normal level.

Lastly, I feel overwhelmed when I'm in a place like that. All day I'm asking kids to stop talking; the last thing I want to do to relax is go and be on edge.

But still. I was out, with a friend, so things were good. I had a "Milk Stout" beer, which I'd never heard of until yesterday, and it was tasty. I had another. Jackie and I ordered the homemade potato chips with Gorgonzola... again with the tasty.

Then.

Melinda showed up. We had asked her if she wanted to join us earlier at school, and she said she might.

What she didn't tell us is that she might bring her husband.

Her evil, rotten-excuse-of-a-human-being husband.

I can't stand this man.

Loathe is too tame a word for how I feel about him.

It really does suck, since I do like Melinda. Just without him. All he does is drink and get mean. I swear, that's it.

He was already drunk last night when they showed up. He ordered a pitcher of beer, but because the glass (yes, he ordered a pitcher for himself), was a beat behind, just started drinking from the pitcher itself. Epitome of charm, that one.

Jackie and Melinda and I started talking about school, but he said we couldn't because it was so boring for him. Okay, so I asked if anyone had heard about the prank that turned into a terrorist scare in Boston... I had only heard a bit about it, so I really was asking if anyone knew what the deal was.

He then went off on me about being vague... as if I should only talk about those things I knew 100% about.

I won't bore you with the details of the next 45 minutes, but suffice it to say this man makes it his goal to bash on me whatever chance he gets. I don't know what I ever did to him. I was pretty close last night to screaming at him (I didn't). He gets loud, and being that he's 6'6", he's pretty damn intimidating.

Driving home, I thought about it. Standing up to him wouldn't have made anything better. I should have just smiled at him and sweetly asked him if he felt better about himself after mocking me. You know, that smile that says, "oh, you poor thing. You really have no confidence at all now, do you?"

Let it go rebekah, let it go.