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2003-01-12 | 8:48 p.m.
corduroy licorice liked to sit around and collect dust. some people collect baseball cards or comic books, but corduroy took pride in having the most complete dust collection in the western hemisphere.
good movie: the hours starring meryl streep, julianne moore and nicole kidman with a fake nose. it cleverly weaves three women's stories into a thought-provoking layer cake of a movie. all of the starring actresses gave great performances, the writing was satisfying and the concepts raised are still working their way through my noggin. i think this will be one of those films with a time-release effect.
good album: because of an inviting description posted next to the display of sondre lerche's album called faces down, i impulse bought it. another score! he's a 19-year-old norweigian fella that sounds like the progeny of beck and rufus wainwright. the production is terrific, with all kinds of bells and whistles backing his terrific singer-songwriter vocal valentines.
i had another blind date last week. well, it wasn't really blind. more myopic. my online dating journey is continuing, but between my pickiness and the slim pickins out there i've only managed to select three bachelors to e-mail. one resulted in the coffee date with the nice, but alarmingly feminine bloke. last week marked the appearance of bachelor #3.
he featured an artistic bent, which always sends my libido readings off the charts. he also filled out his ad profile with unusual charm. his picture was appealing, too. so i sent up the e-mail flare and he responded by suggesting meeting for drinks.
driving to the location of the date, i sensed a wave of anxiety rushing through me. "why do i do this to myself?" i thought. "tortuous, it 'tis. tortuous."
i walked in, we shook hands, i squeezed between two tables to grab some vinyl boothage next to him. it was a good conversation. maybe too good in that it revealed some troublesome facts about mr. numero tres. like that he was an "answer to no one" kind of guy. and that he might be a turner when it comes to hooch. after mentioning past partying, he reassured me that he didn't drink that much at all.
"i mean, i'll put some beer in the fridge, and it'll last for weeks," he explained.
yes, i believe it's called a case.
then he briefly described a couple of his past relationships. for instance, how one of his angry ex-girlfriends saw him at a party, ran up to him and body-slammed him into a bush. he seemed pleased to report her wwf-style.
"so, it was good because she wasn't keeping it all inside," i offered.
"exactly!" he chuckled heartily.
then came the bling bling barometer. would he be a gent and pick up the tab? he had had dinner and two beers. i'd had one brew. when the check came, i reached in my pocket. he didn't wave me off.
"can i chip in?" i asked, quoting the suggested first-date-bill line i'd read in a women's magazine once.
"sure!" he exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically.
now, just so you don't think i'm a gold-digger, i didn't mind paying for my own drink. it's just a nice $5 gesture for a guy to make when he's asked a girl out for the first time. i really have a problem with cheap people, especially when i know they make a decent living.
the clincher came when he looked over the check suspiciously.
"sometimes they add the tip in," he mumbled. "they sneak it in."
yeah, i believe it's called for a party of 8 or more.
he actually called the waitress over to ask her if she'd tipped herself already. she looked a bit confused and answered no. kinda amusing, but embarrassing, too.
we had an amicable split, but i doubt there'll be another outing wid da bod of us.
yes, i believe it's called going back to the drawing board.
take a peek at these - (c) 2000-2003 nictate:
quibbling with quitherfeather
catcher in the wry