Karma: Bites LA woman in the ass.
I am not a good person. A couple of weeks ago I was out at what I like to think of as the best kept secret on the Westside. It's like a dive bar for rich people: only 'regulars' go during the week for $3 beer on karaoke night (the words come up on one of the plasma screens around the lounge area), but a glass of wine costs $14 and there are always Bentleys parked outside. So anyway, I like this place.
The weekend before last I was there with some friends when this guy started talking to my friends and me. We talked to them for a while but this guy sort of got on my nerves because he said something about not affiliating with either political party when I mentioned Dick Cheney owning stock in Tamiflu and he also thought that Supersize Me came out in 2005, when it was really 2004*. This guy bought drinks for his friends and my friends a couple of times but I never took one because I wasn't in an especially good mood and didn't feel like I had $6 worth of flirtaciousness and feigned interest in me. Instead I wandered around the bar - going to the bathroom when I didn't have to, looked for an ATM that I know didn't exist, pretended to close a tab that isn't open, and retrieved my friends' jackets. Finally we left and moved on to this upscale restaurant that was serving everything on its menu for free from 12a - 6a to promote its new open all night scheme.
The guy from the bar emailed me the next day after he looked me up on the UCLA directory and asked me to coffee or dinner. Seeing the perfect opportunity to recoup the $10 I spent on a Gimlet, I accepted for dinner for last night. Dinner was actually both surprisingly tasty and surprisingly enjoyable. I was feeling quite smug on more than making up for my overpriced cocktail and having such a delicious, delicious dinner. I was feeling quite smug, that is, until I got in my car and realized that unlike the rest of Santa Monica, the meters on Main Street are 24-hours and failing to note this cost me $35. I mean, dinner was really, really nice, so I'm pretty sure I still came out ahead, but this means I'll have to go on another date to really make up for it, which might be tricky because I usually pay for the second date if I initiate it or I have a really good time. I am a bad person.
Last night's date was with this clean cut business entrepreneurial type guy. Tonight I'm going out with another business entrepreneurial type guy, but this one has a faux hawk, a tattoo on his forearm, and owns a company that sends kids to rock and roll summer camp.
Please read again tomorrow to find out about my own brush with death**.
*one of my advisers tells me these aren't especially valid reasons for disliking someone
**moreover brush with rocks and gravel.
The weekend before last I was there with some friends when this guy started talking to my friends and me. We talked to them for a while but this guy sort of got on my nerves because he said something about not affiliating with either political party when I mentioned Dick Cheney owning stock in Tamiflu and he also thought that Supersize Me came out in 2005, when it was really 2004*. This guy bought drinks for his friends and my friends a couple of times but I never took one because I wasn't in an especially good mood and didn't feel like I had $6 worth of flirtaciousness and feigned interest in me. Instead I wandered around the bar - going to the bathroom when I didn't have to, looked for an ATM that I know didn't exist, pretended to close a tab that isn't open, and retrieved my friends' jackets. Finally we left and moved on to this upscale restaurant that was serving everything on its menu for free from 12a - 6a to promote its new open all night scheme.
The guy from the bar emailed me the next day after he looked me up on the UCLA directory and asked me to coffee or dinner. Seeing the perfect opportunity to recoup the $10 I spent on a Gimlet, I accepted for dinner for last night. Dinner was actually both surprisingly tasty and surprisingly enjoyable. I was feeling quite smug on more than making up for my overpriced cocktail and having such a delicious, delicious dinner. I was feeling quite smug, that is, until I got in my car and realized that unlike the rest of Santa Monica, the meters on Main Street are 24-hours and failing to note this cost me $35. I mean, dinner was really, really nice, so I'm pretty sure I still came out ahead, but this means I'll have to go on another date to really make up for it, which might be tricky because I usually pay for the second date if I initiate it or I have a really good time. I am a bad person.
Last night's date was with this clean cut business entrepreneurial type guy. Tonight I'm going out with another business entrepreneurial type guy, but this one has a faux hawk, a tattoo on his forearm, and owns a company that sends kids to rock and roll summer camp.
Please read again tomorrow to find out about my own brush with death**.
*one of my advisers tells me these aren't especially valid reasons for disliking someone
**moreover brush with rocks and gravel.
posted by kelly at 5:44 PM
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