Seems that everything is back to normal:
Last night Julz and I, looking darling I might add, were bar hopping like crazy in desperate need of finding a happening place. On a Wednesday in the 'burgh, that's just not happening. We exhausted our resources in Oakland and Shadyside then headed to the logical last ditch location: the South Side.
Pittsburgh is the only place where nobody can be out and there is still no parking. So, we snatched a spot on a side street and bounced out the do'.
"That's such a cute place," Julie said of this modern, swank little condo.
"That's Max Talbot's place."
"No," I said, casually. "But he does live in the South Side and that place is pretty nice."
Just as I say this, a black Range Rover pulls into said condo's garage. Julie sneaks up to put the inside of the garage in her eyeline.
"I want to see if it's him," she whispered.
Now, there's no explanation for the next thing I say. A simple mind malfunction perhaps, but for some reason--even though I knew darn well there was a home game tomorrow I say, "Nah, they're in Carolina anyway." So, yeah, just ignore that...
Upon seeing only a leg and a flip-flop exit the car, Julie convincingly (and loudly) proclaims, "That's a chick."
I peer in for the first time in this whole ordeal, now met with the entire mystery figure--who looks directly back at me.
"No, that's Max Talbot."
And, with that, he closed the garage door.
Now, there's nothing particularly rock-star about this story. We didn't tell him off at a bar this time or anything. But, given that history, of all people, how funny was it to see him.
Also, the timing. We bar hopped like mad, just happen to park on that street across from his place as he was pulling in, and--obviously--one of the funniest parts of it all was that I have JUST SAID "Yeah, that's Max Talbot's place," in jest! Which was only prompted by Julie's admiration of the condo.
So, yeah. We still got it. That magical ability for everything to be funny, and for Max Talbot to be everywhere.