okay, hannah and i had (until now) an unspoken rule: we can talk about boys, but only peripherally. not only do we have no interest in emulating carrie bradshaw, most of the time other aspects of our lives are far, far more interesting (if only to us). also, while many of the men are not calling, a very small part of our spirit earnestly believes they are reading the blog. which is why we can't mention them.
but it's just so rich a topic. and we're single...and, somehow, we both have a clearer insight into the male psyche (or our own) when we're not dating. a male.
i am twenty-seven years old. hannah is approaching one of those pivotal birthdays this coming winter. and here's the deal: we're finding that, at this age, we're straddling two hemispheres. there are the men who go paddling on the weekend, who wear ties most days, who have 401 K's and dogs named sanford. these are often the men who call, promptly after meeting you, for real dates and possibly discussions of impending children. then, there are the other men. to those, i must finally admit:
i don't want to sit on the same side of the booth at elizabeth's pizza so we can watch that 70's show. nor do i care to learn how to make chicken wings. on the topic of wingeries (actually what they're called): i don't want to eat at one ever. specifically, i don't want to eat at one with bunches of televisions immediately before going to a movie. no, no, no. please don't drag me outta bed to referee your wrestling contest with your other thirty year-old friends.
here's the deal: we don't like the mellow mushroom. or television shows involving other grown people caught on video crashing their bikes. or their segues. and i, at least, hate drugs. you should know that.
we're finally admitting it after ten years: we will never be the cool girlfriend who gets along with anyone, no matter how heinous. we have opinions. about you and other things. we will play darts and pool and drink beer and shower and occasionally wear make-up. we will say thank you. however, we will not allow bongs on our coffee tables. or your feet.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
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10 comments:
goodness. i think it's okay to put your feet on a coffee table that you purchased at goodwill. actually, it's encouraged. i don't believe the coaster rule applies either...
f off. my goodwill coffee table, thankyouverymuch, illuminates my other, PRICELESS furniture. from IKEA.
watch it. next post will be why and how you're not a cool girlfriend. :) xoxo
this is hysterical! thanks for giving me a better morning.............i remember those boys. one of them took me to capt. bill's for our second date. we drank bud. we watched people play volleyball. when we weren't watching that, he watched tv. Another one of those boys, on the first date, started picking his teeth with a toothpick after we'd had coffee...and a muffin.
captain bill's!!! too bad sally smits LOVES captain bill's...
So-you prefer the guys with ties and 409 G's and dogs named like Charleston offspring? Then you should meet my uncle. Lives in Asheville-has a job as some kind of environmental consultant-makes bank. Paddles on the weekend. Talks about how much better Widespread was when he used to see them at bars. Also about how much better sushi is in Japan. He once refered to a California roll as a "tasteless sham." Oh, but he does smoke pot. And apparently has acid flashbacks. Confessed to me that he had one at my cousins baptism. Used the words "Bleeding neon" and "fucked." Good guy, though.
you go, carrie bradshaw. ;-)
btw, hannah likes mellow mushroom's cosmic pizza. it's like you don't know each other at all.
or i guess i should say she did like that pizza a little over a year ago. things can change when you each a pivotal age. holla at'cha your boy.
I don't get it. Why would the bong be on your coffee table? Bongs generally stay put. They're not travellers. Makes me think that you have a boy here who is either housesitting, has roommates, or lives at home with his parents. And herein lies the problem. The problem is the boy, not the bong.
i DO love capt. bill's!
except for the guy who started screaming at me on sunday, after tipping the ball over the net:
"HA! DOESN'T FEEL GOOD, DOES IT?! I LEARNED IT FROM YOU! FROM YOU!!!"
that was a little beyond the scope of what i can handle.
but otherwise: YES to capt. bill's.
no to feet on the coffee table.
Um, I love you both.
That is all.
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