dave and brendan told me that i need to post more personal stuff on here; specifically the stories i tell them about the ridiculous situations a saucy gal like myself can find herself in in this fine city...i gave that a big 'no fucking way' because, besides the fact that i am not that much of an exhibitionist i also don't need people i work with (and FOR) knowing such things. so too bad for you all, maybe one day face to face you'll get to hear some good gossips.
until then... i will share this story :
friday night i witnessed a really weird episode that made me feel simultaneously super-depressed and so unbelievably giddy. molly and i sat next to the most CRINGE-INDUCING DATE you could ever imagine. when we really started to realize what we were overhearing, we couldn't even pretend like we weren't eavesdropping. we were basically 1 second from turning our seats and breaking out popcorn.
we listened, our eyes on each other in giant wide-eyed disbelief, as this douche:
1. told a really complicated boring story for 25 minutes about buying a new blackberry. she tried to steer the conversation to ACTUAL INTERESTING TOPICS to no avail. he was on a path.
2. insisted on knowing her IQ. upon learning that she had never taken the test (and expressing SERIOUS shock at that fact) he asked REPEATEDLY to know her SAT score. she said she didn't remember, he said to "ballpark it"
3. did that thing where you make a teepee triangle shape with your fingers and press it to your lips and close your eyes and said things like "i am not good with commitment, i just want to be clear on that"
4. showed off his dooooouchey FREITAG BAG and MADE HER GUESS the PRICE (she started at $50 and he made her guess all the way to the answer of ONE HUNDRED and FIFTY FUCKING DOLLARS for the laaaaaaaaaamest thing you could ever ever have. dealbreaker, i so seriously hope she didn't bone this dude!)
it went on and on. at one point he went to the bathroom and i considered telling her "it can't be this bad..can it?! run. go. now!"
around then the horrible joy was replaced by horrible depression and in a total carrie bradshaw moment (ew!) i thought: oh my god is this what is left out there? fucking self-absorbed retards with overpriced purses made of actual trash and a hard-on for your aptitude at standardized testing? (my SAT scores were excellent, btw)
so molly and i did what we needed to do...we sneaked a look at his receipt after they left the restaurant and i texted myself his name so i could look him up on myspace. (we were swimming in sake at this point and my memory was getting untrustworthy)
omg. i found that a-hole. and LET THIS BE A CAUTIONARY TALE, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN: his online presence makes him seem somewhat cute and interesting. LIES LIES LIES !
epilogue, we saw them hours later on the street, she was weaving and stumbling and he had his arm around her waist, no doubt ready to guide her to his 'funky' apartment..i can just imagine it, with a futon and a platform bed and jazz records and his own 'art' on the walls and some lame murakami novel on the nightstand ('have you read this? it is SO magical"). ewwwwwww!
jesus christ. did this blog just become an episode of lipstick jungle?