More wine? Sure. What do I have to do to get it?

Last night was interesting

I had a fantasy baseball draft, and it’s a well-known fact that I draft best when half-drunk. And my “best”, I mean “in a way guaranteed to amuse the other people in the league”. So, I needed wine when I left work. I also needed dinner. Since the Shoprite in Ramey depresses me (Sorry hon, but it’s dark and has little prepared food), I found the nearest Stop and Shop. But, I left the directions at the office, so I was on my own when I set out. I found it OK, but got lost going to the hotel. Plus, since it’s NJ and they don’t sell wine in a supermarket, I had to find a liquor store. I drove damn well almost all the way to HealthCareRelatedCompany to find one. Having found wine and my way back, I got to the hotel.

Jeannine: Mr. Daddy. Howzit goin’
Me: (after 5 1/2 months finally annoyed) “Must you call me that?”
Jeannine: No.
Me: OK then (Now we’re on a first name basis. This would come in handy later in the evening)

I had a bottle of some crappy-ass wine that was too expensive because Bergen County NJ is too expensive. I was ready to go.

Things went well at the draft for a while. I had the #1 pick overall and took Albert Poo-holes with the pick. I have never drafted in the top spot before, so it was odd. I had forever and a half between picks and then 2 in a row. I realized that you are almost forced to pick people too early when in that position. As a result, I took a few people who are solid players, but maybe were picked too early. Among them was Nationals 3B, Ryan Zimmerman. But, I had to pick him. I had no choice.

It was all good until I tried to draft Adam Wainright in the 16th round and pushed the button for Francisco Liriano instead. (Smed is laughing at me right now). It’s best not to draft people who are on the season-long DL with a case of “His arm fell off”. Good move by me. In doing so, I had done my job for the evening; I had made a boneheaded pick and amused the group.

Some time during this, my phone rang.

Now, mind you, in the 5 months that I’ve been staying here, my in-room phone has never rung. Not a once. It took me 2 tries to answer because I couldn’t figure out how to pick up the line.

Hello?
Hi. It’s me. (Jeannine and her shotgun-like voice) I have to ask you the weirdest question ever.
OK?
Some woman here needs a ride in the morning to HealthCareRelatedCompany and I can’t find her a cab. (whispers) It may be for an interview. (not whispering anymore) Anyway, what time do you leave in the morning?
Um…7:45?
Good. I’ll tell her.
Um…I have to make a pick (she knew I was drafting) I’ll come down in a minute.

Baffled, I drafted some bozo and went to the lobby

Jeannine eye-nudged me over to the end of the counter and eye-pointed to a woman in the food room (because calling it a restaurant is a stretch, don’t you think?)

That’s her. She looks normal enough, doesn’t she?
Sure. Can I get a glass of wine?

So, I not only got a glass on the house, I got the last 2 inches of the bottle. Because, that’s what I needed; more wine.

The draft ended and I picked up Boof Bonser with the last pick. Mostly because his name is actually Boof. I told the group that I had Boof Bonsered JewelrySlut the other night. I’ll be here all week folks, try the veal.

I called JewelrySlut after the draft and proceeded to babble at her like a true champion. I think I told her at least twice that I had to drive some woman to HealthCareRelatedCompany this morning. At one point, I stopped and asked if I’d already told her the story. I was a little bit drunk.

I babbled a little while longer and then wandered back to the lobby. It seems my services were going to be needed a bit earlier. 7:45 was no longer acceptable. I needed to be ready at 7:30. Ugh…there went my extra time in the morning. I like to sit in my underpants reading ESPN.com. Clearly that was not happening now!

The desk was all a twitter. Dave was freaking out because it was now almost 10:30 and they were “Plus 2″. They still had 2 more people booked than they had rooms. He was pacing back and forth, calling the Sheraton across the street, looking for rooms for the 2 people. Jeannine was dealing with asshole customers.

It seems that just about every person who checks into the hotel is an asshole. They say horribly inappropriate things to Jeannine. Now, don’t get me wrong, she’s a snappy looking babe and I hope to look that good after having 7 kids, but inappropriate is inappropriate. Someone wanted to know if, as a Platinum Member, she’d be visiting him in his room later in the evening. No, dickbag, you get to choose from the basket of candy just like everyone else. And, to make it worse, he kept repeating the joke. It just kinda hung there like a fart in an elevator. Dave, while not panicking over the “Plus 2″ was starting to seethe. He looks out for Jeannine and was not happy. Finally, Mr. Dickbag left and I was able to resume having the front desk hold me upright.

It was nearly 11 when I stumbled back down the hall. Happily, I did not fall asleep in a pile of my own stink. That would have been awkward in the morning.

Fortunately, I woke up this morning with a relatively clear head. It’s hotter than balls in the office, and I just hope that if I start sweating I don’t end up smelling like wine.

It’s too quiet in the office. I need to start singing or something.

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