We went to the beach pub. It's not really a pub, but an open air bar that's owned by an Englishman. They serve all day full English breakfasts and related items (fried egg and chips, beans on toast), potpies, omelettes, burgers, sandwiches, stuff like that. They also rent out a pair of beach loungers and a thatched umbrella for 10 Euros a day (which is rather expensive as compared to Greece, or even Italy, but they don't seem to have any problems filling all the spots available, so there you go.) They rent out other things, too-- paddleboats, kayaks, windsurfing equipment, probably scuba gear-- and there's a shop selling bikinis and beach bags and stuff as well. It's quite the business establishment, really, plus it's fun to watch all the tourists turn bright lobster red and play inept paddle ball on the edge of the water.

Or it would have been, but it was very cloudy and not all that warm. Still plenty of tourists, though, cuz they paid for this vacation, dammit, and they're not going to miss one single day at the beach. Which is fair enough.

I was with Miss Kitty and Miss Jenny, and we had lunch and gossiped over a few post-lunch beers. Misss Jenny is leaving very soon, and was quite put out over the lack of sunshine situation, as she is determined to take a tan with her when she goes. After a while, another woman joined us whom Miss Kitty met while we were in Greece. A nice gal, really, who had come down to the beach for a swim and a bit of paperback action. That's the nifty thing about the beach pub. It's on the promenade that runs along the seashore from Cascais well past Estoril, and on any given day half the world passes by.

I've always thought it would be great for Elvis and I to get up early on a weekend, snag a lounger-umbrella combo, maybe do some swimming, and have brunch at the pub a bit later on. We've never done so because (1) Elvis hates getting up early on the weekend, and (2) he doesn't like breakfast food, either. Although, he could always have a hamburger. It's just as well, I suppose, because the full English is scandalously overpriced. Almost 10 Euros! It's obscene! You could spend the day on a pair of sunloungers under a thatched umbrella on the beach for that.

After a while, Miss Jenny had to go get waxed. (Speaking of which: Hello Googling Epilators! Braun ought to be paying me a royalty. It's doing a fine job on the bikini line, by the way, and the leg epilation continues not to hurt much, if at all. I've figured out why that is, I think: my leg hair is fine and blonde, and I think the hair is being broken off instead of getting yanked out by the root. Whatever it is, the effects don't seem to last all that long on my legs, although I do stay smooth quite a bit longer than shaving and the regrowth isn't all scratchy. But I digress.)

Miss Kitty and I finished our latest round of beers, then decided on a change of scenery. The wind was up, the occasional flashes of sunshine were all but a memory and, quite frankly, we didn't feel like getting rained on. We headed back toward the Square via the pedestrian street, window shopping and trying to figure out where Miss Jenny's recommended waxing place was. We never did; we'll ask her to explain again later on.

Finally, we settled in at the new Irish pub, which has outside seating. Miss Kitty told me about last weekend, which she spent with Horatio at his family's swanky villa in the country. It's pretty posh, apparently, and Miss Kitty said she was afraid to touch anything in the living room for fear of breakage. Also, they went to some excellent and inexpensive restaurants in the mountains (14 Euros each for a three course meal with wine!) and equally inexpensive bars (1.80 for a caneca of beer and a glass of wine!)

She had requested, and received, her own bedroom. Horatio was probably disappointed, although he handled it well. They went with another couple he knows, who were also very nice. So a good time was had by all, and so forth.

So, we sat outside and watched the tourists and gossiped, which was pretty fun until it started to rain. We moved inside at that point, and decided to go to our usual pub for another one. Luckily, we'd only had one pint each, because it's expensive there. Actually, it's about what one would pay in Milan, but then again, we're not in Milan.

We went over to our usual, and Pooka Boy was already there. It was his birthday, and we'd arranged to meet up later on for the standard birthday frolic.

Miss Kitty promptly left, didn't even set foot in the main bar. Miss Kitty and Pooka Boy are no longer speaking. He didn't want her there, she didn't want to be there, and that was that.

It's a sad thing, and awkward for all of us, and it happened while we were away. Miss Kitty and Pooka Boy had spent the evening hanging out together, doing a bit of bar hopping. Just the two of them, as friends-- or at least as friends from Miss Kitty's standpoint, Pooka may have had other ideas. At some point, he told her that she certainly shouldn't be spending so much time with Horatio because Pooka doesn't trust him, and Pooka Boy is sure that he has "ulterior motives" that don't stop at mere friendship. Miss Kitty replies that it's none of his business, and that she has every right to spend time with whomever she likes, regardless of what Pooka Boy thinks. PB tells her exactly what he thinks, including a declaration of undying love, as he does on a regular basis, especially when he's had more booze that is strictly good for him. Sometimes, he'll limit himself to merely making a pass. Either way, he usually retracts it later, mumbling something about drunkeness making you do or say things you don't really mean.

Which would be fine, if he didn't mean it. However, as any idiot can see, he does. Poor Pookie. He stares at her sadly, soulfully, longingly. If she's talking to another man, or dancing at the LNBOE, you can add "bitterly" and "bleakly" as well. He usually ends up storming off in a huff, as Miss Kitty puts it, but there's a lot more to this patented Pooka maneuver than that. He reaches the breaking point-- you can see it in his face. He drains whatever it is that he's drinking in one convulsive gulp, sets the glass emphatically on the nearest horizontal surface, turns on one heel and leaves without a backward glance or a word to anyone. Pooka Boy has had enough. Such drama-- it's like living in Walford

On this latest episode, he didn't pick a good time for a declaration. Miss Kitty replied that she wasn't interested, but she didn't stop there. Apparently, she told him he was the last person she would want to go out with. Furthermore, that there was a time when she would have been interested (he was wearing her down, I could tell), but he had followed that declaration (and rejection) with a crush on Headmistress, which led to him ignoring his friends, chasing her around trying to spend every minute with her, just the two of them. Which might have been OK if not for the lying and sneaking around that went with it. I can see where she's coming from: it was kind of insulting, as if he thought that she really didn't mean it when she said no and that his new, close friendship with another friend of ours would hurt Miss Kitty's feelings. That wasn't the case: it was the lying that did that, and the lying and skipping out on another close friend (who happened to be moving at the time and got his feelings a bit hurt as well, I think.) He followed that with a crush on Dudess, which he still has. He does that, crushes. I don't think he expects sex and so forth from them (Dudess has a boyfriend, for example), but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't turn it down if offered. I do think that maybe she overreacted to the whole situation. Maybe not. I'm not her.

I suppose another explanation is that Miss Kitty is a bit jealous. Maybe not in the traditional sense ("Why is he with her, when he could be with meeee?") but in the "How could you get over me so quickly?" sort of sense. I think that's happened to everybody at some time or another. Well, it's happened to me, when, for example, I've dumped a guy because he's so dull that I'd rather stay home differentiating equations on a Friday night than hear the interminable story of his mother's quest for effective bunion treatment one more time. He got all teary eyed and kept wailing "but I looove you" like some sort of mantra, but the next week he's all happy and in love with the fat bitch that lives two floors down, and he's talking about it getting "very serious" even though they've only had two dates and gone out for coffee once. That sort of thing makes you feel sort of tawdry. Used. And a bit peeved since your replacement is so obviously less attractive than you.

Then you remember that you only had three dates in the first place, so who's the one with the problem here?

Anyway, Miss Kitty topped it off by stating that even if she was interested, she still wouldn't go out with Pooka Boy because he's a bit obsessive, then stated that Horatio wasn't the one having a problem being just friends, it was Pooka Boy. He retorted that maybe she was right, and that he didn't want to be friends anymore. Then he left, using the classic pooka maneuver.

Miss Kitty thought it would blow over. It has in the past. But, after we got back, and we were all in the pub one evening, he totally blanked her. Miss Kitty had been going to apologize, apparently, after realizing that she had been a bit harsh. She meant what she said, mind you, but she could have been a bit less blunt. On the other hand, Miss Kitty hates being ignored, and so pointedly, too. She says that she's sick of all the drama, that she's moving away soon, and that's the end of it. She's clearly not going to make the first move, and it doesn't look like Pooka Boy is budging either.

When we arrived at the pub last night, and the first thing she saw was Pooka Boy, she wanted out. Headmistress was sitting right next to him, which didn't help, I would imagine. Heh. Miss Kitty hasn't talked to her in months. Whatever. Leave me out of it. I'm not picking sides: I just don't want to step on any toes out of ignorance.

Miss Kitty left. I stayed. It's his birthday, after all. She did help me pick out the card, but refused to sign it. And it was a pretty disappointing evening, really, for a birthday. Then again, Pooka Boy isn't much of one to fuss over birthdays. Dudess and I had discussed getting him a stripper, but we couldn't find one that wasn't all skanky and probably a prostitute as well. We wanted a nice, clean, wholesome stripper. Horatio knows one, it turns out, but by the time I found that out it was too late. And as it turned out, Dudess wasn't feeling too clever yesterday and gave the birthday outing a miss. Elvis turned up eventually, after he got back from work, and one other friend of Pooka Boy's, and that was about it. We drank in the pub for a while, and I bought PB a shot of some sort, and we ended up going to the bar with the hideous music. Nobody really wanted to go there except for Headmistress. And if Headmistress wanted to go, Pooka Boy was bound and determined that we would, and he was the birthday boy, after all. Elvis and I lasted for about half a beer, and then we couldn't take it anymore, so we left. Which is just as well, since he had to get up early for work this morning.

And that was about it, really.

And now, since I just can't seem to get enough of laundry, I'm off to do some more.