I got my hairs cut today. It looks very nice. And the young man was kind enough to straighten my hair so I'll look all professional tomorrow for graduation. My hairdresser was telling me about how he used to have this girlfriend and he would do her hair and makeup before they went out. My wheels started turning and I thought, “A hairdresser for a boyfriend? What a great idea! Why have I never thought of that?” I was trying to think of ways to convince the boyfriend to become a hairdresser but the ridiculousness of that situation (especially if you know my boyfriend) was just too hysterical to contemplate any longer. I may have to dump the boyfriend for a hairdresser. Not mine, though. He's a little too dim. And he hinted toward some baby mama drama. Not fun.
So, yeah, last night…after the electroclash crap finished I decided that I needed a cocktail, especially since I got to hear all of the lewd comments that Shawn made about the supermodel bartender. I don't know why, amongst all of his male friends, he chose to turn to me and say crass and cliched shit like, “Now that's what I'm talkin' about…I'd like to get a piece of that.” Shut up, Shawn. She's like, 20. What would she want with your 31-year-old ass? And put your bike goggles away, you're embarrassing me. Imagine my delight when I went to the bar to get a Cosmopolitan and the supermodel bartender was all in my Kool-Aid. Yes, a very attractive young woman flirted with me and I was feeling punchy enough that I flirted right back and gave her a big tip. It was the only flirtatious attention that I got all night, however. I sat at the bar by myself for a full twenty minutes with no male attention. I fear that I might be losing “it.” Crap. Liz Janco flirted with Manny for me, though, which really wasn't neccessary. He gave me some happy meal prize that he had been playing with the whole night…American Justice something. It had wings and was very greasy. Thanks.
The Dutch doods played some very good music, but I didn't realize how long they were going to be playing. I was there until 2 a.m. yawn. Too late for this old hag. I kept marvelling at the height and skinniness of the Dutchmen. It was very strange. All of them had this POW-chic thing going. I did respect them for trashing the electroclash band with everyone else, but adding an hysterical Dutch twist: “This sucks, ja?”
The ex-boyfriend was there. *grumble* He was drinking heavily and flirting with his ex-girlfriend which made me feel kind of good. The fact that he's still acting like a dick no matter who is girlfriend is makes for some kind of closure for me. Like, the problem wasn't me it was him. I do feel bad for his current girlfriend, though. Since she's, like, 12 she can't go out with him anywhere. And I'm sure he guesses that he sees his ex on many occasions. While she could be having a much better relationship with someone much more deserving of her affection (and closer to her age) she's hanging out with that smelly loser. By the way, what was I thinking?
When we finally got home I crashed into bed, reeking of smoke, read an article in Pulp and then fell somewhat asleep. Lucid sex was had, that half-awake stuff that you're not sure if it happened in the morning. sleepfucking, I guess you could call it.
Anyway, I have to run down to Oakland for some stuff, but I'll have more musings later.
