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Friday, December 28, 2012

My Sacrifice to the Mayan Gods Saved Us All


As I feared, my date for the Mayan Apocalypse was fit for an epic disaster.
There are so many things left unsaid, unshared and unsuggested on prospective daters' online profiles, it's absolutely astounding.  Glancing at a profile, you might be led to think that someone is: intelligent, grounded, witty and interesting.  What you find, more often than not, is: foolish, flaky, banal and tasteless.  When I find someone whose personality is so polar opposite from mine, one whose head is floating so far in outer space that E.T. has a pre-paid calling card just to phone her, one who gives "eccentric" a whole new meaning, I want to scream and curse the gods for sending me yet another prospect to test my patience for human kind.  
Pre-planned and Pre-Agreed Upon Agenda For Apocalyptic Date:
1.  Meet at friendly neighborhood bar for a drink.
2.  Walk on foot, in the rain, to help date select a Christmas tree for her apartment.
3.  Transport Christmas tree on foot, in the rain (with the help of a Granny Cart), to said apartment.
4.  Assist in decorating Christmas tree.
I like adventure.  I like quirky.  And I'm usually down for anything out of the ordinary on a first date.  No, really, I'm quite serious.  I'm so bored with the usual wine bar meet-up or coffee date that I could just die from narcolepsy.  So, naturally, I agreed to the agenda, no matter how weird it seemed.
We met at the agreed upon neighborhood bar.  It was a rainy evening but since we're both smokers, we decided to brave the rain and sit on the outside patio where we could drink and smoke in relative peace.  First thing I notice?  Um, she's wearing a pink knitted bunny hat… with floppy ears… and whiskers.  Alrighty then.  Since it was raining and every seat was soaked, I opted to stand under my umbrella but it made for awkward conversation since I was towering over my date while she sat.  My date's solution was a kind offer to let me sit on her bunny hat. 
Me: "Thank you, that's very nice."
Her: "Wait!  Let me flip it over so you can sit on her face."
Me: "Um…?  Insert inappropriate joke here?"
Her: "Exactly."
(*Sigh* Oh boy.)
So we sat and talked small for about a half hour or so and then decided to set out on our journey to find her Christmas tree.  As we walked out of the bar, I asked her to lead the way.
Her: "I don't actually know where the Christmas tree lot is but I think it's somewhere this way."
Me: "You don't know where it is? "
Her: "Well, I think I saw it around 17th and Folsom and made a mental note to come back, but I was really drunk that night and now I can't remember where it was."
Me: "I see, so we're going to walk ten blocks in the rain and hope that there's a Christmas tree lot there?"
Her: "Exactly. Hahahahaha!"
Me: " Okaaaaaaay…"
As we walked the ten blocks towards the intersection of How-Did I Get Myself Into This? 17th and Could-You-Possibly-Be-More-Obnoxious? Folsom, she could hardly contain her excitement over the ornaments she had just purchased for her tree.  She was practically giddy.  So I asked her, "what do they look like?"
Her: "They're Budweiser cans!"
Me: "Oh.  That sounds… fun?"
Her: "I bought almost all of them.  The checker at the store asked me if there were any left for the other customers.  And I said, 'um, I think I left, like, three.'"
Me: "Oh.  Wow."
Her: "Those aren't the only ornaments I bought.  I also got donuts, coke cans, sushi and South Park characters."
Me: "Well that sounds… interesting.  And um, colorful."
And then we came upon the intersection of Total Weirdo 17th and How-Soon-Can-I-Go-Home? Folsom; guess what wasn't there?  Yep, you guessed it.  No tree lot.
Me: "I think I'll just Google Christmas tree lots on my phone."
Her: "No, wait, I know it's here somewhere."
Me: "You're probably right but I can pull it up on my phone and find out exactly where."
Her: "No, wait, maybe it's up this street."
(And they say that men are the ones who don't stop and ask for directions!)
Finally.  After walking eleventy thousand blocks in the rain, we found a tree lot.  And after spending about an hour walking around the lot mulling over all the trees, she picked one out.  The young guy working the lot came over and told us that they offered delivery too.  This was music to my ears, especially since my date casually forgot to bring her Granny Cart to transport the tree.  So I asked how much the delivery would cost.  $49.
Her: "No, that's too much."
Me: "I'll gladly pay the delivery charge so I don't have to carry this tree fifteen blocks to your house."
Her: "No, it's too expensive.  Besides, you look like you can handle it."
Me:  "Is that why you chose the tall girl for your date tonight?  Cheap labor?"
Her: "No!  Hahahaha!"
Christmas Tree Lot Guy: "Actually, we can't deliver it tonight.  We close in an hour.  How about tomorrow?"
Her: "No, that'll ruin our plans.  We can carry it."
Me: "No, we'll walk back to the bar and grab the Zipcar that I rented and strap that tree to the roof."
So we retrieved the car and picked up the tree.  When they charged her $95 for the tree, she handed them her credit card.  "Oh, sorry.  We're cash only."  (ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!)  After all that, there was no way I was turning back.  So I offered to pay in cash and she offered to pay me back (which she hasn't and I would rather kiss $95 goodbye than retrieve the loan and have to see her again).
We drove to her place with her proud new tree and walked it up the steep and narrow stairway up to her apartment.  At the top of the stairs, I notice an enormous skeleton head sitting in a window sill.  I don't mean an average sized skull.  I'm talking the skull of King Kong's much larger, much scarier older brother who used to bully poor King Kong and his pal Godzilla around.  No shit.  This thing was utterly unnerving.  And the hallway was painted in orange and green stripes like a circus tent.  And the kitchen had skeletons painted in stencil all over the walls!  This apartment would've sent Hunter S. Thompson into an irrevocable and unforgiving acid trip.
We dragged the tree into her apartment and I asked her where she wanted to put it.  To which she replied: her bedroom.  "Wait, you don’t want it out where your roommates can enjoy it too?"  (She has FIVE, by the way.  Yes.  FIVE roommates.)  Nope, she wants the tree in her tiny, disgustingly messy and horrifically decorated bedroom.  
In the corner of her bedroom where she wanted to place the tree is a coat/hat rack.  Adorning this rack is what I could only describe as a menagerie of other animal-themed knitted hats, much like the pink bunny whose face I had intimate relations with earlier in the evening.  There was a frog, a kitty, a monkey and countless others.  And when she grabbed a broom to sweep up the floor around the tree, I noticed the following items: dust bunnies the size of jack rabbits, a used plastic spork, a candy bar wrapper, a pencil and a layer of filth that looks like it's been collecting for the better part of a decade.  I couldn't help but shiver from a case of the heebie-jeebies.  
Me: "Uh gee, I have to get the Zipcar back by 11:00.  It's already 10:15 so I should be going soon."
Her: "No, wait.  You have to just see my ornaments!"
Me: "Uh… oh.  Ok."
They were exactly as she described.  And they were exactly as tacky and trashy as I had imagined.  I stayed for another ten minutes and helped hang about a half dozen of these tree blemishes.  The only ornament I liked was a replica of the Robert Indiana sculpture, "LOVE"… and I broke it.  Doesn't that just say it all, folks?  Leave it to little old me, poor love-cursed and heartbroken Miss-Adventures to break LOVE.  Oh the symbolism of it all stabbed my insides like the shards of that broken ornament.
So I gathered my keys, my cellphone and my jacket and thanked her for an "adventurous date".  I started to walk away and she threw her arms up towards my neck…  Oh, a hug, that's nice...  No, she's going in!  Mayday!  Mayday!  She's going in with tongue!  Goose!  Pull the escape hatch!  No shit.  Here I was thinking this date was a motherfucking train wreck and she's going in for an end of the evening kiss… with tongue! 
The next morning I woke up with the sore throat from hell.  And I've been sick with a cold ever since.  That'll teach me for letting a weird girl kiss me on the first (horrendous) date.  
{*Cough!*  *Cough!*}
I believe it was my unselfish sacrifice to the Mayan gods on that fateful evening that spared us all from total annihilation.  You're welcome. world.  No, no, please, this ticker tape parade is more than enough thanks.
{*Cough!*  *Cough!*}

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