Rothschild!
Last night after my final rehearsal for the high schooler playwriting project, i drove right over to Re-Bar for Alice and Freddy's RETARDED! dj sets.
It was actually nice that there were not many people there. We had the whole dance floor to ourselves!
But anyway, while I was at the bar at one point, a mysterious hand caressed my shoulder. i turned to see a conservative looking young black guy in a black turtle neck. He looked like a physics or computer science student. When i turned to him, he looked down, embarrassed, and then revealed that he just really liked my shirt, and asked if I had any idea what i was wearing. I said it was just a shirt from Value Village. He informed me that I was actually wearing a very valuable, very rare 70s Izod Lacoste shirt. I pointed out that it wasn't Izod (no alligator, dude), but actually le tigre. Even better, he said! The shirt I was wearing was no longer in production, and could easily go for $350.00 on ebay. He said that if he'd had $100 on him he'd give it to me for the shirt. I pointed to the ATM. He did not follow through. He also pointed out that HIS black rubber bracelets were not knock-offs. they were purchased in 1981 at the NYC boutique, "Unique", before Madonna ever wore them.
Instead he offered to pick up my tab and the rest of my drinks for the night. I demurred. He said that it was no big deal to him, because he came from a lot of money. I said that was nice, but I could afford the $10 tab I was working on, and that I was getting paid today and would be rolling in cash.
He asked if i was serious. "Are you one of us?" he asked. He asked this several times because it was loud and he kept insisting on using a conspiratorial whisper. "One of what? You mean a homosexual?" I asked in reply. "No, no. Are you *peas and carrots*"?
"Come again? I couldn't hear you!"
"are you *rutabaga rutabaga*"
still have no idea what he's said, but decide it's not worth it to ask again - "Oh! yeah, i don't know about that. haha."
"So are you?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"You don't know?" he asked in disbelief.
"What?"
"Are you from ROYALTY, too?"
I was stunned. What the hell? No, I said. He asked if I was sure, that I looked like I must come from nobility. I said I was half Norwegian. He guessed that the rest must be Danish and Welsh, and that was where my royal lineage probably came from. He then asked if he could tell me something that was embarrassing and that he hated telling people. I said sure. He asked for permission at least three times, each time I said it was fine.
"I'm a De Saille," he said (i made this name up, i can;t remember what he said, but it was French).
"Oh."
"No, for real. I am."
"OK. See, you didn't need to be embarrassed because I have no idea what that means."
He launched into his story about an aristocratic German family that fled the Nazis and settled in France under a new French name. He rambled about family lines and this and that. Finally he said, "Basically? I'm a Rothschild. So yeah, you're talking to one of the richest people in the world. I hate telling people that! My father is directly related to the Rothschilds. Oh, obviously I'm adopted." So, he said he could really buy all my drinks all night. Then Margie sidled up, and he offered to have her taken home in his personal car service.
They started playing some Gloria Estefan and I pretended to get really excited to go dance. I left poor Margie alone with the guy. Margie just IMed me with this:
margie says:
spencer that black guy by the bar last night said he was psychic
and told me that you and I are suppose to get married and have three babies! ha!
$pence-Sir says:
CRAZY!
$pence-Sir says:
i am just typing an lj post about him!
margie says:
I told him you were gay and he said that I was the woman to change you.
$pence-Sir says:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
margie says:
He was a freak! and he wouldn't stop talking..
$pence-Sir says:
I know, he would not quit.
$pence-Sir says:
I couldn;t even get a word in edgewise.
margie says:
Oh and after he told me we were getting married...I was thinking, "great!
the only man I can get to marry me is a gay man."
I love possibly unbalanced pathological liars! Seattle crazies are the best!
Wish me a broken leg tonight! Unless you're a 16 year old witch named Louise.
It was actually nice that there were not many people there. We had the whole dance floor to ourselves!
But anyway, while I was at the bar at one point, a mysterious hand caressed my shoulder. i turned to see a conservative looking young black guy in a black turtle neck. He looked like a physics or computer science student. When i turned to him, he looked down, embarrassed, and then revealed that he just really liked my shirt, and asked if I had any idea what i was wearing. I said it was just a shirt from Value Village. He informed me that I was actually wearing a very valuable, very rare 70s Izod Lacoste shirt. I pointed out that it wasn't Izod (no alligator, dude), but actually le tigre. Even better, he said! The shirt I was wearing was no longer in production, and could easily go for $350.00 on ebay. He said that if he'd had $100 on him he'd give it to me for the shirt. I pointed to the ATM. He did not follow through. He also pointed out that HIS black rubber bracelets were not knock-offs. they were purchased in 1981 at the NYC boutique, "Unique", before Madonna ever wore them.
Instead he offered to pick up my tab and the rest of my drinks for the night. I demurred. He said that it was no big deal to him, because he came from a lot of money. I said that was nice, but I could afford the $10 tab I was working on, and that I was getting paid today and would be rolling in cash.
He asked if i was serious. "Are you one of us?" he asked. He asked this several times because it was loud and he kept insisting on using a conspiratorial whisper. "One of what? You mean a homosexual?" I asked in reply. "No, no. Are you *peas and carrots*"?
"Come again? I couldn't hear you!"
"are you *rutabaga rutabaga*"
still have no idea what he's said, but decide it's not worth it to ask again - "Oh! yeah, i don't know about that. haha."
"So are you?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"You don't know?" he asked in disbelief.
"What?"
"Are you from ROYALTY, too?"
I was stunned. What the hell? No, I said. He asked if I was sure, that I looked like I must come from nobility. I said I was half Norwegian. He guessed that the rest must be Danish and Welsh, and that was where my royal lineage probably came from. He then asked if he could tell me something that was embarrassing and that he hated telling people. I said sure. He asked for permission at least three times, each time I said it was fine.
"I'm a De Saille," he said (i made this name up, i can;t remember what he said, but it was French).
"Oh."
"No, for real. I am."
"OK. See, you didn't need to be embarrassed because I have no idea what that means."
He launched into his story about an aristocratic German family that fled the Nazis and settled in France under a new French name. He rambled about family lines and this and that. Finally he said, "Basically? I'm a Rothschild. So yeah, you're talking to one of the richest people in the world. I hate telling people that! My father is directly related to the Rothschilds. Oh, obviously I'm adopted." So, he said he could really buy all my drinks all night. Then Margie sidled up, and he offered to have her taken home in his personal car service.
They started playing some Gloria Estefan and I pretended to get really excited to go dance. I left poor Margie alone with the guy. Margie just IMed me with this:
margie says:
spencer that black guy by the bar last night said he was psychic
and told me that you and I are suppose to get married and have three babies! ha!
$pence-Sir says:
CRAZY!
$pence-Sir says:
i am just typing an lj post about him!
margie says:
I told him you were gay and he said that I was the woman to change you.
$pence-Sir says:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
margie says:
He was a freak! and he wouldn't stop talking..
$pence-Sir says:
I know, he would not quit.
$pence-Sir says:
I couldn;t even get a word in edgewise.
margie says:
Oh and after he told me we were getting married...I was thinking, "great!
the only man I can get to marry me is a gay man."
I love possibly unbalanced pathological liars! Seattle crazies are the best!
Wish me a broken leg tonight! Unless you're a 16 year old witch named Louise.