Archive for October, 2005

Open Letter To the Guy Who I Thought Was My Date Last Night But Clearly Was Not

Dear Guy Who I Sat Next To At The Bar And Started Talking To Because You Said “Hi, What Have You Been Up To Today?” So Therefore I Thought You Were The Guy I was Waiting For,

To be fair, we both walked into the bar at the same time, and when you said “Well THAT was good timing!” I didn’t think it was a “line”. I thought you were the person I planned to meet there, and in retrospect I think that was your blunder. Your overt friendliness, I mean. And then when the bartender said to both of us “What’ll you have?” and we both placed our orders at the same time, that further solidified your status as the person I planned to meet there, wouldn’t you agree? Because I know I agree. With me.

This was definitely one of those moments where being in a Spanish-speaking country would have come in handy, don’t you think, guy? Because we would have known if the bartender meant “What’ll you (usted, singular) have?” or “What’ll you (ustedes, plural) have?”. Either way though thanks for being a sport when he charged you for both drinks. I got your back next time!

So, guy, it’s probably better that we weren’t meant to be each other’s dates last night. You, with your passive nature and confused agreeance to pay and me with my pride when I did not actually ask your name to confirm that you were my date, well, those traits would never mesh. That’s the hard truth.

I’m glad I’m writing you this in a letter, guy. Because if this were a dialogue I would hate to have you address the question of how I could have possibly mistaken you, since you look nothing like your picture. The easy answer of course is “I just assumed your picture online was taken before you grew a full beard and your swarthy complexion definitely didn’t come off quite as dark, I assumed you were experimenting with light and exposure time on your camera”. Obviously, guy. Obviously. I have my reasons and I don’t have to get into this.

Also, I’m sorry I kind of ignored you once my real date showed up. Wow, was it ever obvious that he was the guy I was waiting for as soon as he walked in the door! I mean, if a picture tells a thousand words, his online photo said “I look the same in real life as I do in pictures” 83 times over. No ambiguity there!

My date and I were lost in conversation all night and I feel bad not saying goodbye when we left! Talking to you really helped me break the ice with him, so thank you. Did the people you were waiting for ever show up?

Anyway, lesson learned. For both of us, I guess, wouldn’t you say? From now on, I’m calling happy hour “‘Verify Identity First’ hour”. ha! ha! Take care, guy!

The Master of My Universe

Is it me or is every girl a magnet for guys who love comic books/superheroes/alternate universes? I was almost going to say something about this triumvirate of dorkiness being like kryptonite to me, but I know that does nothing to help my cynical case against you all. I don’t plan to make too much fun because supposing you are the only guys I CAN attract I don’t want to alienate my chances with you all (and if ever a sentence reeked of desperation and “settling” that would be it), but truthfully, I don’t get it. I can respect your appreciation for them, hopefully the way YOU, Potential Suitor, can respect my need for OK! Magazine and emotional eating, but what IS the fascination?

It’s not for a lack of trying to “get it” on my part. I watched Lord of the Rings for goodness sake. TEN hours, people. I spent TEN hours watching this Middle Earth doodoo in the hopes that it would make me more desirable to you because I know who Aragorn is now. But I don’t care! Ten hours and I don’t even know what those two gay hobbits who were stuck in the tree were named. I’m sorry that I failed you, Potential Suitors. I was almost going to make a joke about guys who listen to Emo as well as liking comics and how Emo stands for Emotionally Retarded, but that’s not fair. In the Venn Diagram of dorkiness, not all Emo boys are comic book boys so I would hate to make sweeping generalizations. But seriously, I just wanted you to know that these obsessions handicap you all.

(Call me!!)

Peace Out, Gothamist

Stand up for Peace

Poetry that slices through your mind like a hot knife through…

I did Mortified on Friday night – so much fun! I went home on Saturday and found a few more things that might be funny to read there, including a poem I wrote to my dad in the 5th grade when apparently, I was studying health.

Arteries are red.
Veins are blue
Cut down on Butter
Cause I love you

Trampoline Gothamist

Naked Trampoline Hamlet

The Haiku and The Whale

Seen lots of movies lately and have not been giving you, my readers, any of my profound opinions on them. And you deserve more than that. So. 17 syllables on The Squid and The Whale, In Her Shoes and Junebug.

The Squid and The Whale
Park Slopers divorce,
one thing they agree on is
they all want the cat.

In Her Shoes
Who pours milk onto
their ice cream? Illiterate
Cammy D., that’s who.

Ben McKenzie, will
we ever see a smile from
that punim? Doubtful.


My interview with Conan writer Brian McCann is up on Gothamist today.