Dinner At Fargo's

I haven't eaten dinner at Fargo's in a long time. But that's because I haven't been 11 years old in a long time. It was actually pretty fun when we went last night, though. Some memebers of the Scribe staff went out to dinner last night to celebrate our editor-in-chief's birthday.

When we first got there, I saw the coolest guy I think I've ever seen. Ever. He was about 600 years old, and he was out on the town with his wife and friend. As they walked out of the restaurant, they seemed to be intensely engaged in a debate of some kind. As they walked by us, the subject of their conversation became clear: eyebrows. The friend kept insisting that if you trim eyebrows down, they'll grow back exactly the way they were before you trimmed them. "No no no," insisted the man, "I tried that once, and they DIDN'T GROW BACK THE SAME." "Aw, hogwash," came the reply. "They'll grow back just fine. YOU did it wrong." Then he proceeded to explain that when you wash your face, you're actually rubbing off precious eyebrow hairs. "Seriously, if you rub too hard, they'll just all fall off." I love old people. (Apparently, by the time they were outside the restaurant, they'd already changed subjects. By then, they were discussing the composition of belly button lint.)

The rest of the dinner was fun, though uneventful. Sometimes I wish I worked with some crazy pathological liar who told moronic stories about his youth as an advisor to Lincoln. Or that one time when he saw Lee Harvey Oswald eating a sandwich at the VERY TIME HE SUPPOSEDLY SHOT KENNEDY. Or when he once made over $100,000 in a single day of trading in the stock market, and then lost it all the next day by buying 40,000 items of Tupperware...

It was cool to celebrate a birthday party with friends. I don't do that too often. I think it has something to do with my "abrasive" demeanor. Or possibly my "sarcastic" sense of humor. Or it just might be my "complete lack of tact." Then again, maybe it's just my "tendency to insult people to the point of either being called an 'asshole' or just being disinvited to most parties." Oh, that reminds me, I finally got called an asshole by someone who reads my column at UCCS. For those of you keeping score at home, that's about 20 columns before being called an asshole. Honestly, that's a bit longer than I expected. It was inspired by a column that I didn't expect to generate any sort of negative feelings toward me: why the Winter Olympics suck. Interesting...