What the f*** are they praying about on Stanton Street?
It’s been an incredible week. I don’t want to jinx things, but really, if all goes even close to plan, it’s been an incredible week. And unless I’m hit by lightning or stricken with some unexplainable ailment, I think things are on the up and up.
I went to see my parents Friday night for Yom Kippur dinner. I was such a bad Jew, I ate, sat in temple for an hour, and then took a train back to NYC. I was typing on the way and I found this little paragraph I wrote at the end of a story I was working on. I thought I’d share. It’s nothing really relevant though.
There’s a guy on the train whose talking to his friend and he thinks I haven’t heard what he says. He’s talking about some blonde he picked up last night, and his back is to me. I can’t decide if he’s cute, but from the tone of his conversation, he sounds sleazy. We make eye contact and he thinks I think he’s cute. He is cute, so I guess he’s not so off, but he doesn’t realize that I know that he has fucked some blonde who is now calling him on a regular basis. He hangs up the phone and I think he thinks I should look at him. Only I don’t because I’m afraid I’ll laugh or crack a smile. He’s got to talk to someone, anyone, so he picks up his phone.
I shared this “random train thought” with you because well, I wasn’t sure why else I typed it, so why not share what I’ve got. It also because it reminds me how funny this dating thing is. Here’s this girl, this blonde who thinks she’s found some really great guy, only he’s a slimy boy whose telling his friend about her, while referring to her as the blonde I picked up last night, and she’s probably calling her friends saying she’s in love.
Girls who deny that they have done this, are lying. I am not a boy so I don’t know if boys do this too, but even if they do, it’s a lot less often than the girls do. When a girl meets someone she likes, she often plans out small details, like who will sit with whom at the wedding, and what they’re child will wear to its first day of school. Boys think about the next time, or the first time, they’ll get laid. And even when they think about this, the girl that they just met, the one whose telling all her friends about him, isn’t necessarily the one they picture in bed. Guys like options. So do some girls, but guys really do.
Whatever. Boys and girls will always be boys and girls. While some of us exhibit crossover tendencies, others of us are extremely predictable. I guess that’s the point I wasn’t trying to make.
AND…straight out of random tangent land.
I had this “regression” today:
If I were cast in the Wizard of Oz, I’d play the part of Cindy, Dorothy’s little sister. While you may not have heard of Cindy, back in the day, when I was a young lady happily playing make believe at family parties, I got to play Cindy, a lesser known character that dies tragically in the MGM movie version of life, but I swear she came to me in more than a dream.
It’s true. My cousin got to play Dorothy and I got to play Cindy and it was fucked up because there ain’t no Cindy people. There ain’t no Cindy in the Wizard of Oz. But, according to my cousin, there couldn’t be two Dorothy’s and there was no way she got to play Dorothy without me. Well, actually she did, because I played Cindy. I hated Cindy because she was second best and I was supposed to be the star.
I’m still not over it. And with everything else going on, I don’t know if I ever will be. Okay, I will, I will..I’m not that crazy.