Do you remember Mr. OB? You should. Catch up here and here. I often wonder about the interpretation of our friendship from afar. A twenty-four year old girl enjoying drinks and conversation at a restaurant bar with a sixty something year old man. Maybe it is an odd friendship pairing to outside eyes, but I do firmly believe in the notion of age only being a number. I know some of my friends who are still in their twenties that are older than Mr. OB. Not only does Mr. OB provide me with continuous entertainment with his quirks and no-fucks-given attitude, but he also has some pretty incredible stories to share.
Why, just last week I had dinner with Mr. OB after an extended period of not having dinner with Mr. OB for no particular reason. He told me the hilarious story about the time that he hitch hiked from Mississippi to Illinois to stay with a friend when he was just 19 years old. He was kicked out of his college for being in a girl’s dorm after hours and decided to get out-of-town to avoid the heat from his parents. Shocker.
We began to discuss the differences between the times. Hitch hiking was common place and not surrounded by the qualms of abduction back then. At least not as much as now. He told me about the people who picked him up along the way.
Me: “So what were the people like? How many different people picked you up?”
Mr OB: “I don’t remember a lot, but I do remember this one hippy chick who picked me up” Read the rest of this entry
I am so cliché right now: barely touching my Japanese takeout, wearing work out pants that I mainly wear when I am not working out, and sitting on the faux wood floor of my soon to be ex apartment. It’s every bit a scene out of a familiar movie. It mimics that one montage scene in which the main character is making some sort of significant transition; picture clips of furniture slowly disappearing from a dwelling as the main character is going through a very obvious and dramatic emotionally reflective period. There is usually some heavy sound track playing in the background for added effect.
Shit. I have my Ipod playing in the back ground right now, and I am sitting on the floor all aloof. Can you surpass cliché? What would that be called?
Although my dumplings are cold, I have to admit that the sound of my favorite Pandora radio station reverberating between my scant living room walls actually feels comforting. It is a good thing I also have 7 layer dip to counteract the cold take-out. I should just go ahead and start making origami piñatas while I am at it. After all, all of my entertaining gadgets are stacked like a failed game of Tetris into a bunch of overpriced boxes at the moment.
There is something incredibly relieving about freeing yourself from material belongings. Read the rest of this entry