Thanksgiving in Seattle - A Reverse Chronology
Friday Nov. 27 10:32 p.m. EST: HOME. Thank god. That's it, I'm never drinking again. Or flying again. Maybe.
8:49 p.m.: Seriously, is there no barf bag in here?
8:47 p.m.: Turbulence. Tuuuuurbuleeeeeence.
5:14 p.m.: Advil not working.
12:32 p.m. CST: Why the FUCK am I in Houston? Seattle to New York via Texas, really? I shake my fist at you, Continental!
7:42 a.m. PST: "Bye, Jamie! Smooches! Thanks for everything! By the way, do you have any Advil?"
7:10 a.m.: Underwear, underwear...where is my underwear? "Hey, psssst. Wake up. Are you hiding my underwear? Well, I don't know why you would, but...oh wait, here it is. Well, anyway, that was fun. If you're ever in Mythaca...well, anyway. Bye."
3:57 a.m.: "So, are you a slut?"
"What?! I mean...what do you think?"
"No...I don't think you are. I didn't expect to get your clothes off so easy, though."
"You're kind of an asshole, aren't you?"
3:33 a.m.: "Yes, you have to wear it, and no, I don't care if you can't 'feel anything.'"
3:02 a.m.: Oh, hey...guys. Oh, you're...going to stop to chat, are you? Going to...sit down right next to us on the futon, eh? Oh my god. Please, please just go. Oh ho ho, you think this is just hilarious, don't you? I may be drunk but this is still completely mortifying. Yes, good, you go away now. God.
3:01 a.m.: Annnnnnnnd here they are.
2:47 a.m.: "I don't know, Jamie's roommates haven't come home yet. Oh, yes, a sheet, brilliant. Like a cloak of invisibility! Or...not."
2:32 a.m.: "You know, when I first met you I thought you were a lesbian."
What?! Oh my god, is it possible he's already found my blog? "What?! I mean, umm, why?"
"Well, I didn't know you don't live here, and you were always sleeping in the room with your friend."
"That's bullshit, I told you I didn't live here the first time I met you."
"Umm, yeah, I was really high when I first met you."
"It was nine in the morning."
2:21 a.m.: "You know how I knew? You let me tap your foot under the table all night."
"Wait, you knew that was my foot? And you just kept tapping it? I thought you thought it was the table."
"Yeah, and you let me. I was like, well, if this girl is going to let me tap her foot all night..."
"Well, I...but...that was my side of the table! I had nowhere else to go!"
"You liked it."
"What?! I...fine. I liked it."
2:15 a.m.: "You know, I've wanted to kiss you since I met you."
"No way, really? But you acted so...aloof."
"Oh, come on. If I had pursued you, you never would have been interested."
"That's not true."
"Well, anyway, I just know that I saw that face, and I was like, I want to kiss it. And those bangs..." (Seriously, the bangs again??? Note to self--hipsters love the bangs.)
1:53 a.m.: "So should we get out of here?"
"Yeah, let's go."
1:24 a.m.: Seriously, another pitcher of PBR?
1:12 a.m.: "I've just seen a face I can't forget the time or place when we first met she's just the girl for me and I want all the world to see we've met. Woooo woooo wooooo woo woo woooooooo!"
12:03 a.m.: Karaoke? God, I fucking hate karaoke!
Thursday Nov. 26 11:59 p.m.: "You know, I think I've drank more PBR tonight than I've ever drank in my whole life. Like, cumulatively. I think I may have had it, like, once or twice before, but usually I don't even touch it. But you know, it's actually not that bad right now."
Wednesday Nov. 25 10:14 a.m.: text from Jamie: awww. be aloof. that gets em every time. :)
10:03 a.m.: text to Jamie: He is cute. and I am super awkward. Oh well
9:58 a.m.: "Hey."
"Um, you don't live here, do you?"
"Oh. I don't either."
"Well, uh, bye."
8:31 a.m.: text from Jamie: Attractive shirtless man on my couch!
Annnnnnnnnd scene. I'm going to chalk this one up to a life lesson. Though from now on I'll probably think twice about hooking up with some black-glasses-and-tight-pants-wearing, curly-haired, PBR-swilling, pot-smoking, knows-exactly-how-cute-he-is hipster. Fucking hipsters, man. Trouble.