Jun 4, 2007


I got too frustrated with myself to write tonight. I was just in this unfocused haze and driving myself crazy, so I went to my very favorite neighborhood joint and ordered the weird hybrid salad that they're kind enough to make for me (it's a mixture of two different salads then an appetizer on top; it's glorious) from time to time and drank a couple glasses of pinot noir and read and let it go.

I was engrossed in my book (still Margaret Sartor's Miss American Pie) and didn't really notice a couple that came in and sat next to me, but rather I smelled them, doused in the usual heavy perfume and cologne combination that everyone seems to be wearing anymore (Her, Escada? Him, Aqua di Gio?). He was slurry in speaking, and she was relatively sober, though she was insisting there was a "diet" version of some girly-ass booze she was hot for, which sounds awful. I mostly tuned them and their grab-ass out until I heard him say, I'm only a man and not only do I need you on my sales team, I need you with my body. Yeah!" Bleh. Bleh. Bleh.

I tried not to laugh, or I pretended to be laughing at my book, or at the text message I was sending, quoting the Adjacent Douchebag. They couple continued on with really remarkable exchanges like, "You want me to take a Viagra now or do you want to finish your story?" As if he can't do both? But, it was so in the tone of, "It's cute how you're talking but can we just go ahead and do it now?" Bleh. Dirtbag.

Then, there was mostly drivel, nonsense, crap before he dropped this whopper nasty-ass line about wanting to use a dildo on her that his ex "just loved". So much wrong with that. Then, in an attempt to assure he of her beauty (which I'll hand it to her, she was a really gorgeous woman), Adjacent Douchebag said, "Look how fucking pretty you are. Look at these other women in here. Her (points at me), her (points at a woman on the other end of the bar), they're nothing, they're all homely and shit but you're so pretty." Then he grabbed her ass, pulled her close around him and exclaimed her ass to be his. They left after she grabbed his crotch and asked if his trousers were from Banana Republic. Bleh.


Eric Spitznagel said...

Wow. That is disturbing on so many levels, I don't even know where to begin. Some people should just not be allowed to reproduce. For the sake of the species, their DNA should end with them.

If nothing else, it seems like she appreciates what a true romantic he truly is. When they get back to his studio apartment in Lincoln Park (lucky guess?), I can only hope she looks at him and says, "You had me at 'I need you on my sales team'."

And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII will always love yoooooooooooooooooooooooooooou!!!!

jewgirl said...

he really does so enjoy wearing his asshole on his sleeve, doesn't he? pricklette.

Betsy said...

Holy crap. I don't even know what to say about that. That's horrifying.

Sizzle said...

i am pretty sure i just threw up in my mouth.


sparkypoo said...

I don't know what I could possibly add that hasn't been alredy been said. So gross. I don't know how you refrained from punching that guy!
(hope the self-confounding writer's block has lifted some!)

Johnny Yen said...

Somebody needs to invent a time machine and send him back to 1972, where he belongs.

Anonymous said...

Two emotions from that post:
1) oh me lordy, she thinks she has to f**k him for the job?! is this a warped MTM episode? and 2) a dildo, really?
And a conclusion: she sealed the deal with him in the most anti-feminist way possible. BLECH!

Anonymous said...

Two emotions from that post: 1) she thinks she has to f**k him for that job? what is this, a porn version of the MTM premise? and 2) she chose to seal the deal in the most anti-feminist, ass backwards, demoralizing way possible. BLECH!
Conclusion: it's guys like that that make me so very happy to be single.