irrationality.

the other night in vancouver, dave and i wondered upstairs to a bar. we walked inside and there were two men with testerone bubbling, watching hockey and drinking beer. we sat down at the bar and ordered some wine, and sat there, talking to a girl with lipstick and a child, and a bar tender who looked like a cross between a salesman and wax figure, with the gentle nature of an uncle that your parents keep somewhat distant for the sake of sheidling the truth...ya know, despite his gentle nature, he's somewhat of a bad influence, but at the same time, he's your favorite uncle. seinfeld came on the tv and the bar tender started reciting lines from the show which immediately put him in my good graces. i leaned back on my barstool and laughed like a regular, he told us that coors beer is a good beer, while i chuckled to myself and sipped more wine, i enjoyed the moment...in vancouver, dirnking wine with dave, and laughing at seinfeld, and a man who perhaps loves seinfeld as much as i do, and who loves hockey just as much. the example of a pleasant existence, a humble existence with nothing to prove, with no agenda but to exist with a smile throughout the week.