I have safely made it to my most current of desired destinations (despite the 16 hour bus ride from Detroit that, to use a non-derogative word was to say the least, 'colorful.' No wait, that was derogative, but only considering my bus ride). I am here. MINNEAPOLIS. Curled up in sweats and a blanket, my newest Ikea purchase, Harlequin, the giant rolley polley bug with zippable mouth, lies here next to me. New city, new friend. He was who I cuddled as I fell asleep last night, Friday night, after watching several hours of Grey's Anatomy. Alone. For hours I debated changing into clothes, possibly even showering, and even doing the required multiple layers of bundling up to make the trek down the stairs to the bar next door, Liquor Lyles. But then I didn't. Because of all the effort that would have involved. Well, that, and the issue i have with drinking alone. If you must know, I say yes to it, but only in pajamas in the comfort of your own home where you only have jiminy cricket & your conscious to judge you for it. Hopefully not more than 4 times a week. I mean 2. I draw the line at being the girl from LA who drinks by herself at the bar on a Friday night. ...Or do I? Is what I asked myself multiple times. I guess we'll just have to wait until next week to see...
I hate not being busy. Every so often i pull out my new 2009 leather bound planner hoping I can think of a future event or even a previously forgotten birthday I can mark down. But as days go on I have run out of birthdays to write down. I have run out of stupid made up holidays to remember. I need to find somethings to do simply to write them down or i will begin this new year, this new adventure, by losing myself completely. Because who am I without my planner? I'm not asking you, I'm probably the only one who knows how truly crucial my planner is to my personal psychosis. I suppose I try not to announce my little slightly insane tendencies to the world. I just write about them. For the entirety of the internet.
I met a boy. My second day here. Actually I met several. But only one followed up. I was 40:60 on his sexuality. I guess when you play gay in a play it tends to seep over into your actual persona. That seems to be the trend I've observed anyway. On my 4th day I was sitting with my cousin, Lacey, (who I am living with) and her sarcastic, wannabe jewish, slightly offensive, adorable boyfriend, John. We get along because I am sarcastic, overtly offensive & a wannabe (just in general, my wannabe goals change daily to match the shoes I'm wearing.). He receives a text message from the boy, lets call him... Sryan. Despite John's warnings of Syan's stalking potential, Lacey & I find it the perfect opportunity to overindulge next door & possibly make another human being extremely uncomfortable. John begrudgingly arranges our meeting for that evening. Sryan gets off to a bad start by arriving right as I reach the climax of the book I was reading. Typical. We meet up next door, sit in a slightly too cozy booth and start drinking. A picture next the booth reads "Jack & Tina met in this very booth in 1966 and are still happily married." I of course read this aloud, commenting on the obvious sweetness of this. There is silence. Uh oh, i think inside my head. I hope this boy with stalker potential doesn't get any ideas. We start to drink. Now, here's a little tid-bit about me. If I like someone I'm attempting to talk to I very rarely eat or drink anything because I'm easily distracted and need to focus on what they're saying and what I need to respond with in order to make me equally as awesome. And if the opposite, eating & drinking gives you something to do besides making conversation. And if you're drinking alcohol it makes everyone much more interesting & makes me much better at faking it. By the end of the first 10 minutes I had consumed half a pitcher of beer and ordered multiple appetizers.
...
Then i ate them. All of them. I love mini-corndogs.
...
We wrap it up at Liquor Lyles and we (Lacey, John & I) are drunk enough to suggest continuing the evening in our apartment. We do. Before everyone is even in the apartment I have gone to my room closed the door and changed into sweats. Tid Bit #2 about me. In terms of boys/dating/etc. there are two reasons I change into sweats. One, is that we've reached the point in our dating and/or relationship where I go, "I'm coming over in sweats. deal with it." And from there gage a guy's reaction to handling me in my most comfortable of states. OR. I change into them halfway through our first hangout because I'm absolutely not attracted to you and don't mind you judging me for my relaxed look. Uh oh.
The night proceeds thru a game of Cranium TURBO. Where Lacey & I realize we're basically the same person, but in a good way, not in the you hate the people who secretly remind you of yourself kind of way. And therefore we may or may not have destroyed John & Sryan at Cranium. I actually don't recall the specifics of the end of the game...but it's what I assume. Long story shorter than the long story... Sryan eventually leaves. Pogi, John's heterosexual life partner & roommate, comes over. John takes his shirt off. Pogi puts on Lacey's, and I end up in my torn white trash wife beater. John gets a text from Sryan saying how awesome the night was. We all sigh collectively. Then we go to bed.
The next day, I jokingly ask John about Sryan's impressions. He just shakes his head.
Apparently the booth picture gave him some ideas.
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