So as I was saying yesterday, I went out drinking with Dear Astronaut on Thursday. And Friday, but that's a story for another day. At one point, I was sitting on the bench on the patio. Dear Astronaut's drummer was sitting on one side of me; some dude was sitting on the other side. The Dude kept talking to me, which I apparently found highly offensive, as I was mean to him, or so I hear. The bar was across the street from an adult video store, and I definitely told him to go over there and shove a VHS tape up his ass. At the time I thought I was being funny, and I'm pretty sure he mentioned the porn store first, but after he finally left the bench, Scott started laughing and told me I had been really mean.
I think for awhile he was flirting with me, and actually, maybe that's why I was being mean. I don't really know how to react to flirting. Anyway, so I was sitting there, probably making fun of him or something, and suddenly he's like "Eeew! Your arm hair is touching me!" to which I responded by asking him what the fuck was wrong with him. Then he started trying to demonstrate how gross it was by touching my arm with his, which, (a) I didn't notice I was touching his fucking arm hair in the first place so why would I suddenly notice or care and (b) the whole thing seemed like a really weird excuse to touch my arm and (c) that guy was dumb.
Oh! I remember why I didn't like him. Earlier, he started a conversation with Scott about some obscure Rolling Stone article about Bob Dylan that everyone but him had misunderstood. Apparently he's such a huge Dylan fan that people at work are constantly challenging him about Dylan and this article (something about vinyl vs. digital) and the whole thing was so stupid and pretentious that it made me want to vomit all over his face. So that's probably why I was so mean to him the second time we ended up sitting next to him. That actually makes me feel better, because the whole "walk across the street and shove things up your ass" conversation makes sense. To me, at least.
I was telling my mom this story, because I like to tell my mom innappropriate stories about getting drunk and being mean to boys who hit on me. When I got to part where I wanted to vomit all over his face because he was "such a huge dylan fan omg and he's totally being persecuted," I told her that I was thinking "you fucking douchebag, my parents are huge Dylan fans, you are a prematurely balding 26 year old loser who's only seen Dylan in concert ONCE so fuck off ASS," and she was shocked and upset that I was so mean (not so much by the swearing because I think she's given up hope that I'll stop cursing). When I told her that I didn't actually tell him that, I only thought it, she was totally okay with it and actually laughed. And that is one more reason my mom is awesome.
So anyway, the moral of the story is, I think this could be a good story, but it isn't quite there yet. Maybe it needs more swears.