Friday, September 21, 2001

a fairly odd evening, or, geez am i stupid

[This is totally cut and pasted from my own blog, by the way.]

So I just had dinner with my friend Gina, and I'm rushing off to see my friend Dan's band at the Sky Bar. I mistake Beacon Ave. for Somerville Ave. so of course I'm late, but fortunately the band is late, too, so I get a chance to settle down and stuff. So I order a Guinness and all of the sudden, hey, I have an idea for a micro short story to stick in my book.

I'm feeling all good about this micro short story, as I get a chance to make references to disease, terrorist attacks, and the goofy words of Jonathan Franzen. (For some reason, I always get inspired around Dan.) I'm writing it in my little notebook, and the bar is perfect for that because the black light makes the pages of my notebook glow.

As I'm writing, and as Dan's band goes on, and as the band, Honest Bob, struts its stuff in a way that's much better than the last time I saw them (like two or three years ago), this girl starts talking to me. "What's occupying your brain?" she asks. She's cute and blonde and naturally friendly looking, and I should've been focusing on those aspects of her, but, instead, what mostly what goes through my head is "Hey! I'm busy writing!" and "Ohmygod, I don't know what to say because I really can't pull off the pretentious novelist act, as fun as it would seem." Especially not when I'm actually busy being a pretentious novelist, and not instead busy pretending to be a pretentious novelist, which would be totally different.

Anyway, the band is fun and the writing goes well, and everything ends early and I'm thinking, "Yay! I can actually catch the T home to Brookline and not have to pay for a taxi, whoohoo," so I book on out of there, but before I leave, the girl, who has, by now, introduced herself as Petra and says she lives in Davis Square, says "So you're leaving so soon?" and I mumble something (stupidly) about taking the T. She tells me she hopes to see me around some other time.

After I leave, I start thinking, "God I'm an idiot, she was totally flirting with me, I should've gotten her number or tried to get together with her or something." So I'm walking back to Porter Square, kicking myself, though not literally, and yelling "Idiot!" internally.

Anyway, thoughts of "Steph! You idiot!" are totally preoccupying my brain, when all of the sudden I feel this person press up behind me. I turn around. It is this guy who looks kinda like Eminem, only not quite as skinny, and basically that's all I notice about him except that he's also wearing a pair of headphones. He is saying, "Ma'am, please give me your purse."

I kid you not.

I also kid you not that the things that are going through my head are: (1) How dare you interrupt me kicking myself for not getting this cute girl's phone number! and (2) How dare you call my tarepanda tote bag (totu bagu) a purse! The latter thought actually starts consuming me, because, well, he was accusing me of being a purse carrier, and that, I am not. I also later think, (3) How dare you call me ma'am!

I must admit, I was mildly drunk at the time. Not super drunk, just happily buzzed.

So I scream, "No way! I'm not giving you this!" (Note my careful decision not to accede to his characterization of my bag as a purse.)

This exchange proceeds for the next few minutes: (Him) "Ma'am, please give me your purse." (Me) "No way!"

At some point, I start thinking, "Geez, this guy is on something. He must be. He's completely ineffectual." So I start to form the question, "What are you on, anyway?"

Except, like I said, I'm a bit drunk. And even when I'm sober, sometimes I don't quite say the things I'm thinking of, but, rather, totally random things that pop into my head at around the same time. So out comes, "What the hell are you listening to, anyway?"

The guy looks surprised, as if this were not the response he expected. He repeats the whole "Ma'am, please give me your purse" thing a few more times, but finally gives up and walks off in the other direction. I keep walking towards the T, because goddammit, this pathetic attempt of a mugger wasn't gonna stop me from catching the last train home. But, as I said, I'm a bit drunk, so after half a block of walking, I turn and yell, "Loser!"

Yeah, that was my evening.

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