Palmetto Bay, peanut butter, portable batter, and possible beatings

Hot dang was last night a good night. Melissa and I started off with a cooling drizzle whilst I changed her tire at her house -- she took a screw in and insisted on holding a very large "teacher's" umbrella over me... after that was taken care of, we headed on down to our raving-fave brasserie, Les Halles, in the Gables where we had a fantastic dinner at a leisurely pace that involved good cuts of landlocked and sea life, accompanied by a delicious bottle of '03 Les Jamelles pinot noir. Savory tannic red goodness with a crisp aftertaste of berries and soft wood. She found the waiter very "handsome" and all I can say to that is that the Gaul was actually one good-looking dude. I had an awkward game of staring at the waitress via mirrors in which she busted me at every turn and proceeded (by use of facial signals) to get either more pissed or annoyed as the night progressed. I really wanted her to know that Melissa is my pal and though beautiful and smart, holds no charm over me other than semi-fatherly/brotherly love. I'm sure that would've cleared it up for her and an exchange of "digits" would've gone down. C'mon, baby, I'm a scumbag, but I ain't the cheating kind.
After dinner, we picked up my brother Chazzie from his job and delivered him home, where I changed (after Melissa complained that I didn't have to) cuz the night was turning post-rain muggy/humid and I wanted to wear shorts and a punk rock t-shirt to Jesse's place, where we were told a party would be.
And a party it was. A party with three beautiful pugs: Napoleon, Josephine, and Wellington. A party where all three canines managed to catapult themselves off my balls numerous times. I think my left testicle might be afflicted now with either epididymitis or cryptorchidism. Or maybe its just lymphocytic choromenengitis. Whatever, it fucking hurts. The party suds were Yuengling, the cocktails were Bleeding Maries. And though we used the slow turn on the store-bought mix, by adding a little more vodka than usual and garnishing with celery sticks, they got better as the night progressed. Then we took Melissa home to sleep and ole Jess and I kept up the shenanigans back at his fortressed crib until I decided to call it a night.
So I get in my car, light a cigarette, shuffle through some CD's hoping one will work in my player (cuz it's been giving me problems as of late) and then I notice it's a little too bright. Bright cuz a Miami-Dade squad car (Palmetto Bay division) was right behind me in the driveway flashing its side-light on the back of my head. So I ask what's going on and she asks if I live there and since I'm a scumbag, but certainly not a liar, I tell her no, I'm just visiting my friend and am getting a CD out. And she's all like let me see some ID. And am all like, can I call my friend, and she's okay with that provided I hand her the ID first. So I do and Jesse doesn't answer his phone, so I go and knock on his door and all he can say is, hey this is weird. So he vouches for me and the lady leaves and we thank her and we decided it's a better idea to stay in for a bit and smoke a couple of cigarettes.
Eventually I head home. The rain's back and a Pinecrest squad car follows me for about eight minutes worth of driving and since in the past all my troubles with the law have occurred twice in the same day each and every time, I kept it within the lines and within speed limits. Used my blinkers and kept appropriate car-length distances. Got home and passed out. Using the slow turn sets the record straight -- even when the time you ain't got, gets jolted back into you. I feel the Tahoma business creeping back up but I got pretty dogs to think of now. But mostly, I'd like to buy a bottle of that nice red to consume at home.