A buddy and I are heading to Houston this weekend, formally so he can golf in some charity event (he’s an executive at a pretty large corporation here in Dallas), but additionally so we can catch a Texans football game. So it’s a road trip, all the way. I understand he watches the wrong football team, but at least they’re from Texas. I don’t know how to feel about all that. It doesn’t matter who’s playing when you’re in the stands though, I suppose.
Anyway, during this golf charity event he’s playing Saturday morning, I’ll be running around Houston by myself. All the gir- um- people I used to know who lived in Houston, well – they no longer live in Houston. So I’ve been scouting my links and contacts and myspaces and facebooks, getting in touch with everyone I used to run with back then, trying to find a friend of a friend who still lives there. No such luck.
There was a bar down there I used to stop into occasionally. It’s called Rudyard’s. Now I checked, and it’s still open, but it looks like it’s moved or something. So I’m thinking I’ll hunt that down and probably vedge out there for a while on Saturday and maybe have a col’beer or two. If any of you beautiful (or not) readers would like to join me there, just swing on by and say hello. I’ll buy you a drink.
I’ll drop Roger off at the golf course around 0730, then probably run around until around noon or two, then if he’s done I’ll pick him up and we’ll head to the bar. If he’s not done, I’ll head there Celine Dion style: all by myself. Feel free to stop in and shoot the shoot.