Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Could this girl be even hotter than the last? She’s looking at me right now – giving me the eye. Not the lazy eye, or the “fuck off” eye either. The signs are all aligned, like 2012. It’s like a slow motion movie scene. Either that or I’m starting to feel slightly buzzed from the whiskey. A sly tap on my friend’s shoulder, with a nod in her direction will allow for friendly reassurance. What do you think? I know, right? Awesome. I need to walk over with a drink in my hand. It’s always good to carry a prop, especially one with beer in it.
“Hey!” yelled the slightly inebriated girl with no particularly great attributes.
Listen, you seem like a very nice person, but you’re jamming my radar.
“What’s up, I’m Jenny.”
Very nice to meet you. Again, if you could just step out of the way so I can keep an eye on my…shit! Where did she go? I’m not talking to this girl! She’s talking to me! Where is she? Somebody needs to take over this.
“How’s it going?” I say, without a look into her eyes.
“What are you drinking?” she asks as I take a deep chug from my Amstel Light.
“You’re funny. How old are you?”
“How old are you?”
“Guess,” she says, with a heavy dose of flirtation.
Honestly she looks anywhere from thirty to forty. So, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.
“Twenty-seven,” I lied.
“Ew, you’re so mean.”
Great, then get the hell out of my way so I can find that girl.
“I’m twenty four!”
“You’re so sarcastic. I love that.”
Jesus Christ, are you serious?
Jesus Christ: "I thought you’d like her."
Jesus Christ: "My mistake. See ya in hell."
Me: "Thanks Jesus!"
And he’s gone. Sorry about that. Now, where was I? Oh right, I’m sarcastic. Yes, thanks. I get it.
“Are those Chuck Taylors?”
They clearly are. What is she driving at now?
“I once had sex with a guy just because he was wearing Chuck Taylors.”
The platter is served. But it’s more like an Applebees entrée, rather than a preferred porterhouse or lobster. Does this come with free dessert? Oh, stop it! You don’t want this. She is way too attainable. There’s nothing wrong with her though. Why does she want to throw herself at me like this? Must be a recent break up. I’m the rebound. I will rebound for no one. Well, unless the N.B.A. was thinking of recruiting five foot ten white guys without any athletic build and a sore shoulder. I could probably rebound for the Knicks or something. But, I will not be her rebound.
“That’s crazy. Did you see my friend?” I responded.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Don’t make me feel bad. I’m a very caring person. That’s not right. Did you just brush my crouch with your hip? That was pretty cool. Why did you have to come off so easy? That’s disgusting. I mean clearly there’s something wrong with you.
“I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
Where the hell is my friend? There he is! Get over here.
“Jenny, this is Adam.”
There you go. Talk to Adam. That’ll get you off my back. Now, where did that prize go? She must be around here somewhere. Maybe if I continue to talk to Adam and Jenny, make it look like I’m enjoying myself, the hot girl will get jealous.
“So tell Adam what you were saying…”
Jenny? It’s me. The one you were throwing yourself at two seconds ago. Adam, I introduced her to you to say hello. I didn’t tell you to block me out of the conversation. She likes me, not you! At least bring me back into the group so I look important and fun again. Quickly, here she comes. She’s back! She’s looking at me again.
Shit! She saw you ignoring me. How do I get out of this situation? Now she thinks I’m a loser, who is here all alone.
Don’t look away. Didn’t you see that I was talking to a girl earlier? She totally wants to sleep with me. That’s my friend Adam. He means nothing to her.
“So, Jenny do you want to get out of here?”
Shit! What the hell was that? I don’t want you. I want her. Adam, talk to her again.
“Actually, I may get another drink.”
“I really want to go though.”
God she is so desperate.
“I’ll walk you home.” Adam interrupted.
“OK!” said Jenny.
Wait a second. Where are you guys going? I can’t stand here alone, and Adam you know I like Jenny. How could you not tell? How did I just go from slam-dunk to the third wheel? Oh, you guys are sharing a cab uptown? That is so not right. You know I live downtown. Yea, yea – have fun you two. I set that up you know. You owe me big, Adam! Jesus, I totally want to sleep with Jenny.
Jesus Christ: “I told you. Now you’re fucked.”
Me: “Yes, thanks God.”
Jesus Christ: “Its just Jesus.”
Friday, January 8, 2010
I can’t remember why I got out of bed today. My Asian neighbors are in the hallway screaming in…Asian? I can’t write. I can’t even keep my eyes open. If it wasn’t for the screaming I’d be in bed sleeping. What time is it anyway? Oh shit. It’s 2P.M. Well, this has been a productive day. Let’s see, I brushed my teeth…I…That’s all I did. I need to get out of here.
I still can’t remember why I awoke in the first place. Maybe a coffee will lift my spirits. I’ll have to try the local café…
Sweet Jesus of Nazareth. She could be the hottest girl on the planet. Suddenly my reasoning for getting up and going out has been quickly brought to my attention. Heart rate increasing. Sweating profusely. Nerves…nerving? Oh my God, she’s so hot. Please look at me. Is she looking at me? She could be pretending not to look at me, but secretly is looking at me in the corner of her eye. I bet that’s what she’s doing. I’ll just casually turn toward her and show her I notice her disguised gaze.
OK, so she’s reading a novel. Yes, I know, you’re way out of my league. You’re perfect. You’re absolutely one hundred percent my type. Why should you look at me? Was that a look? Fuck.
Alright, I’m going to sit down and enjoy this coffee. I’ll put her out of mind. She isn’t even real. She doesn’t exist. I have to look. She’s so hot. OK, one more quick look then back to the coffee. Are you kidding me? That is the sexiest body I’ve ever seen. Do you have any idea how hot you are? Who the hell made you? A God of some sort?
Come on, really? How could you not have noticed me for like at least a second. I’m good enough for a one second look over. I’m not repulsive. In fact, I’ve been told how cute I am on several occasions. One look. Go ahead. Was that a look? What the fuck? How good can that book possibly be? What are you reading? I can’t read the title. Let me just squint and see what you’re reading.
No! No, I wasn’t staring at you. I wanted to see what you were reading! Please don’t give me that look. I just wanted to know what you were reading. Great! Now she thinks I’ve been sitting here gawking at her, and thinking about her this entire time. That’s preposterous. I’m just enjoying my coffee. Do you honestly think you’re that hot that I would want to stare at you this whole time?
Wait a second. Was twirling of the hair with your left hand a sign? Are you subconsciously telling me that you appreciate the stare and maybe even find me attractive in some way? I may be on to something here. I know! I’ll grab a copy of The Onion. She’ll see me laughing and enjoying the articles, and subsequently know that I have a great sense of humor. Hot chicks love that, right?
Oh man this article that I’m reading is so funny. Hey, look at me laughing at this article. I’m not laughing too hard, but enough to know that I have a sophisticated, witty sense of humor. Nothing over the top. After all, this is the Onion – not Jay Leno.
Ugh, I can’t believe how perfect her face is. How can you have flawless bone structure, gorgeous eyes, luscious lips, in addition to that body? Stop reading that damn book! Acknowledge me!
I need to walk over there. That’s it! I’m just going to walk over and say something to her. No, I shouldn’t bother her. She’s reading her book. Her boyfriend is probably working hard on Wall Street. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here wasting my day in a café staring at his prize. I knew I should have switched majors to finance.
That was totally a sign. You deliberately crossed your legs in my direction. It wasn’t a crazy Sharon Stone cross, but it was most certainly a “Hey, look at my legs” cross. Well, I noticed it baby. Don’t you worry. You don’t think I have the balls to get up and walk over there? Well, watch this.
I can’t do it. Why do I have to initiate the conversation? Why can’t you? I bet you haven’t had the courtesy to initiate one conversation in your entire life. Everyone comes up to you. How spoiled you are. You know what? I’m not going to be like every other guy. I’m going to sit here and ignore you for the rest of the day. I’ve seen better. You’re average at best. Back to The Onion.
“Excuse me. Do you know if there’s an outlet in here?” the beauty asked.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic! Is there an outlet in here? What is she really insinuating? Is this an innuendo? She is definitely just trying to open a conversation with me. I knew it! If you ignore her, she will come. I win!
“Ugh, I’m not sure. What do you need an outlet for?”
“My computer. OK, I’ll just ask the waitress.”
Is that it? Do you want to talk some more? Wait, don’t go!
“What are you reading?”
“The Lost Symbol.”
What the hell is that? I don’t read real novels. Why did I even ask that? I don’t have a follow up question for that.
“Who wrote that?”
What an idiot. I should have known that. He’s the most popular writer in the past five years. Of course I haven’t read any of his novels. The movies sucked. I’m done. She’s leaving. Holy shit, she is even hotter standing up. I can’t take it. I need to do something. I’m getting out of here. No, don’t leave. Man up.
“Do you want to have some coffee?”
“I just had a cup.”
“Oh, me too.”
She’s laughing. That was a cute joke. She likes it. I’m so in.
“So, do you live around here?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“Down the street.”
“Cool. What are you writing?”
“It’s a book. Mostly comedy.”
“Oh, that’s awesome. Did you see The Hangover?”
Oh come on! How can people think that’s funny?! Don’t even get me started. I have to lie to her. I’m not losing her over this. I will forego my pride and pretend I enjoyed the movie.
“Great movie!” (with fake smile.)
“Oh my God, right? My boyfriend hated it! He’s more into like Woody Allen, Larry David, and all that other smart, funny stuff.”
And that’s it. You’ve officially shattered my heart. You have a boyfriend and he has a real appreciation for comedy. I can’t even be mad at him. If only we had met before you started dating him. I could’ve bored you with those Woody Allen movies. I could’ve pretended to like The Hangover with you. I could’ve disappointed you in bed.
“Are you OK?”
“Me? I’m fine.”
“You look upset.”
And that was that. She broke my heart. She broke my heart. You’re not even that hot. What’s with that mole thing on your face? Your nose is pretty crooked too. By the way, don’t you work? My God your arms are flabby. I’m getting out of here. Why is she even talking to me? Go bore your boyfriend. I feel bad for him. He’s probably cheating on you as we speak. I’m so out of this chick’s league. I'm out of here...
“Wait, where are you going?”
“Have to get back to work. Was nice meeting you…”
Wow, that name is so hot. Shit, I should stay. She’s so damn hot. Ugh, she’s wearing high heels too? Look at her abs. I didn’t even see that…