A couple of people have requested more information about this one… so here’s the scoop.
THE SECOND DATE
It was a Tuesday, and I cannot emphasize this point enough. A Tuesday.
I skip work like I skipped school in high school, which is a lot. BUT never with malintent, I just can’t accept the dictation of my schedule. Junior year I skipped school with my bff Cooksie. We went to walk clockwise around the lakes in Minneapolis and were only busted when we passed some of our friend’s moms speed-walking counter-clockwise around the same lake. Senior year, my Sociology teacher went on maternity leave and her replacement was a 22-year-old. He looked like the kid I babysat down the street dressed up in a suit. I told him that since I was an honors piano student I did not attend his fourth hour class on Fridays due to my tutorials, and he never even questioned my declaration. I just took a two-hour lunch every Friday with the stay-at-home moms at the Galleria.
Anyway, back to the point. It was Tuesday and I skipped work to write at the local coffee shop. Fishnette (a photographer) called me and asked what I was doing, I told her to meet me at the coffee shop. Shaggy (my rocker date) called and asked what I was doing, I told him to meet me at the coffee shop. Riley (an architect) called me and asked what I was doing, I told her to meet me at the coffee shop. There you have it – Motley Cure formed.
There’s this crazy stereotype out there that Williamsburg Brooklyn kids are just a bunch of trust fund babies (TFBs) who do ironic things for attention, because it’s true:
- Exhibit A: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kAO4EVMlpwM
- Exhibit B: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/08/nyregion/08trustafarians.html
- Exhibit C: My friend ‘Stash called that day and said that they’d built a space ship in McCarren Park and everyone was walking around in moon boots (you remember this is Tuesday afternoon, right?). So we go over and sure enough it’s just like being on the moon. Especially the drinks. They had vats of hyper-color booze labeled like “Moon Juice,” “Rocket Fuel,” and “Sun Shine.”
Shaggy & Co drank like it was Armageddon (you might think I just added a link to the movie there, but it actually goes to an earnest website about how to prepare for the Endtimes). Good and toasty, we decided to head for food. We order early din din and Shaggy picks up his fork like a shovel and lowers his head to scoop in his mac n’ cheese. That’s when I take in the scene. My friends Fishette and Riley are ridiculously hot, like model gorgeous. In day light, Shaggy looks kinda sorta heroin-addict skinny, drifter dirty, corpse of Kurt Cobian – ish. To an on looker, maybe we picked up a homeless busker to feed him.
“One of these things is not like the other…” and I know I cannot continue to see someone with such deplorable table manners. Ok, maybe we’ll hang out just once more, but then after that. Seriously, no more.