Hey, You Were Really Boring!
Remind me never to have dinner with an old high school friend ever again. People who are boring in high school turn out to be ten times more boring as adults. He could be mildly entertaining when we were in high school but apparently the years passing has sucked away his potential for saying anything even remotely interesting. Unfortunately, I am Kyan, and I have this quality where I just cannot be rude to people. I'm... polite. Isn't that sickening?
He talked for twenty minutes about mixing cement. No, I'm not joking. At the end of the night, he asked me if I'd like to invest in some project of his, which is what I was expecting to happen. Old high school friends only want to meet up with you again when you're famous and can offer them some cash to help jump-start this project or that business. Anyway, around ten or so hours into the dinner, I started thinking. I started thinking about what a cool hip tip for the show this would make: things to do when you're about to grab the fork off the table and drive it into your wrist just to end the nightmare. This is the list I came up with:
check your watch, count the bricks in the walls, count the specks on the walls, count the number of waiters rushing around, try to learn each waiter's name, try to get each waiter's phone number (be sure to dispose of any gotten phone numbers later, lest boyfriend find them in socks or pants and get suspicious), sing songs in head, sing songs backwards in head, start counting how many times you've nodded your head, start trying to give a different fake smile each time, count the number of hairs on other person's head, estimate how many hairs they will have in ten years, do a Queer Eye makeover on them in head, try to take shoes off without using hands, fantasize (not about your dinner partner), picture everyone naked, wipe naked image from mind (takes longer than you think), scribble on napkin, scribble on napkin and practice new kind of handwriting, try to discreetly play with cell phone under the table, try to dial cell phone for help underneath table, pretend whole situation is a musical...
It goes on. It's a really, really long list. I treated myself to three pieces of chocolate cake as dessert. I know, bad me for going against my whole health food regimen, but after living through Night Of The Living Drone? I think I earned myself some big hunks of chocolate. I also was a considerable bit smashed by the end of the night. That was the fun part. That, my friends, is the upside to dinner with a boring person: lots of drinking, lots of cake.
Man, I am never doing that again. I can still almost hear the dull buzz of his voice in the back of my mind. It just keeps going on and on and on...
Maybe I should buy a cake in the morning.
He talked for twenty minutes about mixing cement. No, I'm not joking. At the end of the night, he asked me if I'd like to invest in some project of his, which is what I was expecting to happen. Old high school friends only want to meet up with you again when you're famous and can offer them some cash to help jump-start this project or that business. Anyway, around ten or so hours into the dinner, I started thinking. I started thinking about what a cool hip tip for the show this would make: things to do when you're about to grab the fork off the table and drive it into your wrist just to end the nightmare. This is the list I came up with:
check your watch, count the bricks in the walls, count the specks on the walls, count the number of waiters rushing around, try to learn each waiter's name, try to get each waiter's phone number (be sure to dispose of any gotten phone numbers later, lest boyfriend find them in socks or pants and get suspicious), sing songs in head, sing songs backwards in head, start counting how many times you've nodded your head, start trying to give a different fake smile each time, count the number of hairs on other person's head, estimate how many hairs they will have in ten years, do a Queer Eye makeover on them in head, try to take shoes off without using hands, fantasize (not about your dinner partner), picture everyone naked, wipe naked image from mind (takes longer than you think), scribble on napkin, scribble on napkin and practice new kind of handwriting, try to discreetly play with cell phone under the table, try to dial cell phone for help underneath table, pretend whole situation is a musical...
It goes on. It's a really, really long list. I treated myself to three pieces of chocolate cake as dessert. I know, bad me for going against my whole health food regimen, but after living through Night Of The Living Drone? I think I earned myself some big hunks of chocolate. I also was a considerable bit smashed by the end of the night. That was the fun part. That, my friends, is the upside to dinner with a boring person: lots of drinking, lots of cake.
Man, I am never doing that again. I can still almost hear the dull buzz of his voice in the back of my mind. It just keeps going on and on and on...
Maybe I should buy a cake in the morning.