ahh nuts!

i'm going back in time to something that happened a few days ago, but i'm just now starting to process.

imagine this...

you've had a thoroughly enjoyable evening with one of your best friends and his wife and his very nice and interesting friends. you've drank WAY too much beer and scotch so you wake up with a screaming headache and a depression that only good scotch can bring. the phone rings. it's "high pockets" a guy you work with who wears his pants a wee bit too high and who you used to have a crush on. he needs you to come into work. "will you please help me?" he says. you can't say no. you roll out of bed, go down to the kitchen only to remember that there's no coffee. you pull on some track pants, put your hair in a pony tail, grab your jacket and head out the door. there's a good chance you reek like booze and that you have the telltale dried spittle trail on your chin - in fact you most certainly exhibit both but you don't care- you're just going down the block to grab a coffee and head back home. what you forget however is that you've moved to one of the hippest neighborhoods in new york city. and that's when it happens. the boy you've been crushing on for months now- we'll call this one "tall, dark and handsome" is standing in line at the coffee shop.

oh dear.

you somehow manange to convince yourself, and him as well, that you're sooooo cool and confident you just don't care. really you want to cry. to run back your apartment. if only to put on your nice slobby "i don't care what i look like" outfit.

but you don't. you sit. you have coffee with said crush trying to not obsessively fix your hair and wipe off your face. you're cool. you can handle this.

ugh.