Last night at Vito was another great night. Not so busy but, as always, my friends pulled through with a spectacular showing. Big thank you to: Susan, Ann, another Susan who I didn't know but who loved my Lemon Solstice so I love her, Ann's forty something friend who still has storage in Somerville from when he went to Tufts, Kerri, Drim, Kell, David and Diane. But the real surprise of the night? Kenny and Cheryl! Fantastic. Kenny stuck it out at the Vit even though he doesn't drink and the air conditioning was giving him an allergic reaction. I'm afraid Kenny may have driven all the way to the West side only to get Legionnaire's Disease. Sorry Kenny.
Outside of the love I got from my friends, a couple of people stand out from last night: the woman who sat at the bar talking to Giovanna, the owner's wife and the guy who tried to bribe Hank into singing.
The woman at the bar, who was obviously a friend of the owners, ate her entire dinner and drank all her white zinfandel while wearing her Bluetooth. That oddly enough wasn't my biggest problem with her. What really caught my attention is that she talked the entire time about her recent plastic surgery she was so proud of. She couldn't have been happier with the results. And I shit you not, she looked like this:The other winner of the night was the dude who came in with his friend just as we were closing up. They were definitely carrying a foreign load. (Foreign Load: coming into to a party or bar already tipsy.) He's was the type of guy that wants to be known as a regular but no one that works at the place knows who the hell he is and all the while his friend is embarrassed by him. As we were cleaning up and closing up in front of him, he kept trying to bait us with all sorts of bar talk nonsense like: Why New Jersey is the greatest state. Or, how no other state has turned out so many prolific singer/songwriter. Or how about this: when this pope dies he's going to start a campaign "Bono for Pope." Now that was a real tongue biter for me. Usually I'd take that Bono bait but what I realized is that it's people like this bozo who make me ashamed of my Bono love. Wasn't the Vanity Fair guest editing gig embarrassing enough for all of us? You want constant boredom for 200 plus pages? Not a problem, buy this: As if the guy at the bar hadn't worked out nerves enough, he then starts to offer Hank money to sing. Hank, as I mentioned in a previous post, was trained in singing at Juilliard. I found out last night that he studied at the Berkeley School of Music in Boston before that. This past week, Hank worked about 70 hours. All he wants to do is cash everyone out so he can get the hell out of there. Singing at 11pm on a Saturday night for this fool is the last thing on his mind but the guy wouldn't leave it alone. It was annoying and then just uncomfortable when he started offering Hank money. I wanted to tell this dummy that you can't buy a man's dignity for $50. Hank's not your trained monkey. Drink your drink and get out. But you know what the reality was? I wanted to hear Hank sing, too. I even would've pitched in to hear him. And I would liked for Hank to know that I'd love to hear him sing but I didn't want to make the situation any more awkward thank it already was.
As soon as the guy gave up, paid his bill and left, Hank sang me and Mary a little original tune called "Get The F*ck Out So I Can Go Home."