Thou Shalt Exorcise Old Friends

HOROSCOPE: An old friend who did you wrong is back in town. Why not take this opportunity to settle the score? Revenge is petty, but a good confrontation is what separates the boys from the Queens.

I rarely get so nervous that I shake.

But I was shaking.

I like to put out this idea of myself--an appearance, but...

Well, remember on Buffy when Willow went crazy and became a baddie?

No?

You don't watch Buffy--or didn't?

Okay, so I need a better analogy.

Well, why don't I just put it this way--

There is no enemy scarier than an old friend.

ME: Friend, you're my Julia Child.
FRIEND: Oh, honey...Fuck off.

For those of you who haven't met Friend, please check out my earlier blog--www.100dates100boys.blogspot.com.

He's pretty prevalent throughout all of it.

But after it was done, so was our friendship.

And not in any grand, big finale fashion.

He just...stopped.

No more phone calls.
No more text messages.
No answers to anything I asked.

It all just...stopped.

Part of it was that my Friend was a big fan of Charlie, who you'll also meet if you choose to peruse the blog, and when Charlie and I ended, I think my Friend felt that he was in the right, and that--well, that I was a little too hard to support during the break-up.

Truth be told, I really don't blame him. I'm not always the easiest guy to stick up for.

So, I consulted with some of my 100 Dates friends to see what they thought I should do.

BRIAN: Sock him in the f**king face when you see him.
ME: Brian--
SCOOTER: I concur.
ME: Did you just use the word 'concur'?
TURNER: I'm sorry, but you're friends with someone you don't expect them to always do the right thing or be a saint. We were all friends with you back then and yes, you were a little rough around the edges--
ME: Is this supposed to be helpful?
TURNER: --And you still are--We all are!--But we don't judge and bail on each other.
BRIAN: Kevin, your Dad was in the hospital, you were going through a break-up, and all you could get out of your Friend was--

Stop.

Just stop.

That was all I ever got.

BRIAN: I'm telling you, punch him in the f**king teeth.

And yet, I really can't.

But I do have some things to say--if I could just stop shaking.

I don't see him when he comes in the cafe. As it is, I had to trick him to meet me here, but it felt necessary at the time. Now it just feels cheesy.

He sits down with that look on his face. It's a look that you give a project when it's over and yet, still giving you trouble.

Like my science project in fifth grade that never quite seemed completed.

That was the look.

I couldn't imagine what he would say, but then--

FRIEND: What?

There it was.

ME: Hi.
FRIEND: Where's Charlie?
ME: He's not coming.
FRIEND: He said--
ME: What I asked him to say. Strangely enough, he's gotten past hating me, but you haven't.
FRIEND: Have a good day.

He started to leave.

ME: I'm not sure why I'm surprised every time you run away.

This stopped him. He turned around, came back to the table, and sat down.

FRIEND: If you want to do this, we can do this, but it's not going to be pretty.
ME: I don't need pretty, I need the truth.
FRIEND: The truth is you started to annoy me, I didn't like the way you were treating Charlie, and basically, I stopped liking you. So I cut you off, as is my prerogative. I don't care what you or anybody else thinks about it, or me, and I've moved on to much bigger and better things in my life.
ME: Oh right. You're one of those people who really want to act, but don't have the confidence for it, so they become a jaded behind-the-scenes boy.
FRIEND: No respect for the little people?
ME: A good tech person is beyond value, but that's not what you are. You're just a scared little actor too afraid to step in front of the curtain.

This was all petty of me, but I didn't care. Somehow I went from nervous to furious. It was probably because furious is easier to deal with in the long run.

ME: You didn't like the way I treated Charlie? What about the way you treat guys?
FRIEND: What way is that?
ME: The same way you treated me. You insert yourself into their lives and just when you become indispensable you disappear with no consideration for them at all.
FRIEND: And your mistake was thinking you were going to be any different.
ME: So you don't see a friend as being different from a fling?
FRIEND: People are people. When they start wearing thin, they need to go.
ME: I wonder if you'll still have that attitude thirty years from now when you're surrounded by cats and antique chairs, watching PBS and riddled with syphilis.
FRIEND: Are you calling me a slut? Because that would be--
ME: Pot, kettle, black? Oh, don't I know it. The only difference is, I never dressed up my hookups to look like relationships. I called them like they were.
FRIEND: So you're a public slut, I'm a private one. Maybe I just don't like strutting my business throughout the town on any blog I can get my hands on.

I believe this is where my only thought, bitch it's on.

ME: By the time our friendship ended, I couldn't even go out with you because we'd run into too many boys looking to kill you. Most of them ugly and stupid, might I add.
FRIEND: Maybe if you hadn't gone out so much, Charlie wouldn't have sent you packing.
ME: Maybe if Charlie, like some of my friends, could handle hearing the truth, he would have wanted me to stick around. You two got along so well because you both like doing the wrong thing and then having your--big quotations here--friends tell you you're doing the right thing.
FRIEND: As opposed to you, who always knows you're doing the wrong thing and does it anyway?
ME: I never said I was perfect.
FRIEND: I wouldn't even say you were of value.
ME: You're right. I couldn't get TGIFriday's waiters to give me their phone numbers. Why bother to go on?
FRIEND: And you always broke your own rules. You have this huge list of rules that everybody has to follow or they get the cold shoulder from you, and then you break every one of those rules and expect that--
ME: Are you calling me a hypocrite? Guilty. Obnoxious? Yes. Sanctimonious? Probably. But I'm sorry, did you not know all this when we first became friends--
FRIEND: I--
ME: How about during the year we talked every single day? Did you just not notice that I was a big pile of crazy?
FRIEND: So you've made peace with yourself?
ME: I've made peace knowing that if your Dad was in the hospital and all you needed was to hear my voice, I would have called you. I can make peace with myself knowing that I'm not that heartless. That I can't put down those walls even if I want to. That at the end of the day, given the choice between helping you and hurting you, I'd still choose to help if you were in trouble. I can make peace knowing that within myself there's a person who can do that despite all the bullshit that might be piled on top of the good stuff. And every time I'd have trouble sleeping at night repeating everything I said to you right before you cut me off, that would be my lullaby. That I wouldn't do to you what you did to me. That I might be awful, but I wasn't that awful. That's how I made peace with it. So question, Friend, how do you make peace with yourself?
FRIEND: I don't know. Maybe I just like being an asshole. Do you have a monologue all prepared in case I answered with apathy? In case I just don't care?

Actually, I sort of did.

ME: Don't believe what everyone tells you. Who you associate with can determine your perceived worth, and whether or not you care, you should keep that in mind. You're incredibly talented at what you do. I love the pride you take in your work. You made me laugh harder than just about anybody I've ever met in my life. Thank you for a wonderful year of friendship. I'm sorry for everything I did wrong, and I forgive you for doing the one thing to me you knew I might not survive. I survived, but I still miss you terribly sometimes. Good-bye.

I stood up.

FRIEND: What the hell was that?
ME: That was everything I wanted to say to you that I refused to leave in a voicemail.
FRIEND: How poignant.
ME: By the way, I still love you more than my luggage. And that person inside will still force me to answer the phone if you ever decide to call. I just think you should know that.
FRIEND: So now you want a hug?
ME: No, now I have to be the one to leave.

And I did.

I walked away.

The shaking started again, but this time it felt like it was shaking something out. Shaking out all the rage and pain and tears and frustration.

And when I stopped shaking again, I knew I wouldn't start again any time soon.

Thou Shalt Converse with the Other Generation

HOROSCOPE: Remember to keep in touch with your grandparents. After all, time is precious.

After reading this, I decided to give each of my grandparents a phone call. This is a little tricky since both sets of my grandparents are divorced and remarried.

PHONE CALL #1: Dad's Stepmother

ME: Hi Grandma Elaine.
ELAINE: Kevin!
ME: How are you?
ELAINE: Oh, I miss your grandfather like a madwoman.
ME: Really? Even after ten years?
ELAINE: Every day I mourn for him.
ME: Well, I'm glad I called you then.
ELAINE: I'd love to talk, honey, but I'm heading out.
ME: Where to?
ELAINE: Oh, just out with a friend.
ME: To bingo or something?
ELAINE: No, a gentleman friend.
ME: A date? You're going on a date?
ELAINE: Just an outing.
ME: Where are you going?
ELAINE: Dinner and a movie, then maybe stop by the beach.
ME: That's a date!
ELAINE: I'm a grown woman. I can go where I want.
ME: Of course you can. I just thought you were mourning grandpa.
ELAINE: We all grieve in our own way. Don't judge me.
ME: Grandma, God rest his soul, but Grandpa was a miserable old man. Live it up.
ELAINE: That's my boy.

Sound of motorcycle.

ELAINE: Gotta run.

PHONE CALL #2: Mom's Dad and Stepmother

ME: Hi Grandma Sarah, how's Florida?
SARAH: Bruce! Kevin's on the phone!
BRUCE: Who?
SARAH: YOUR GRANDSON! HE'S ON THE PHONE!
ME: Did I call at a bad time?
BRUCE: WHO?
SARAH: Of course not! How are you, honey? You sound thin.
ME: Same weight as always.
SARAH: Thin, right. BRUCE!

The other line picks up.

BRUCE: Hello?
ME: Hi Grandpa.
SARAH: Are you doing any more shows?
BRUCE: Is this Kevin?
ME: Yup.
BRUCE: You son-of-a-bitch!
SARAH: Bruce!
BRUCE: When are you coming down here?
ME: You know I hate flying.
BRUCE: You little chickenshit! Hahaha...

My grandfather treats me like I'm one of his old buddies from the pub.

SARAH: You have to send me pictures from your last show!
ME: I'm working on it.
SARAH: I tell all my friends you do theater.
ME: What do they say?
SARAH: Well, usually they tell me about their grandsons who are doctors or lawyers.
ME: Oh...sorry.
SARAH: Oh, don't worry about it. I tell them you like boys and that shuts them up.
BRUCE: Old bitches.
SARAH: Everybody wants a gay grandson now. You should hear them down here. My grandson is marrying this shiksa, which I think is Latvian for whore.
ME: It's Yiddish.
BRUCE: Who?
ME: Never mind.
SARAH: So I say, Well I don't have to worry about that, because my grandson Kevin likes boys. The jealously that fills their eyes--
BRUCE: Priceless.
SARAH: Priceless.
BRUCE: Shuts those old bitches right up.

Now you know where I get my swearing from--

SARAH: You know whose a handsome man? What's-his-name from the gay cowboy movie. Not the dead one.
ME: Jake Gyllenhaal?
SARAH: Him!

Why does everyone in my family want to set me up with Jake Gyllenhaal?

ME: He likes girls, or so they say. He's with Reese Witherspoon.
SARAH: That shiksa?
BRUCE: She's stiffer than a corpse.
ME: You know shiksa--never mind.
BRUCE: You little asshole! We got to get you down here.
ME: Not a chance, geezer.
BRUCE: Hahaha! I love you, you little prick.

Sentiment like that they don't make at Hallmark.

PHONE CALL #3: Dad's Mom

NANCY: How's school, darlin?
ME: I'm out of school, Grandma.
NANCY: Is this Steve?
ME: No, this is Kevin.
NANCY: The one who married Igor?
ME: No, that's Steve, and I thought we all agreed we were going to stop calling Maria that?
NANCY: Are you the one with the weird eye?
ME: No, that's Mark.
NANCY: The bad teeth?
ME: That's my Dad.
NANCY: The one on the third marriage?
ME: That could be a few people.
NANCY: The one who got arrested for kiddie porn?
ME: I'm not even sure who that would be, but you just convinced me not to attend the Family Reunion.
NANCY: Well if you're not any of those wackos, then that's good.
ME: Have you quit smoking yet?
NANCY: Just like Bad Teeth. Always on me about the smoking.
ME: Dad's been telling you to quit smoking?
NANCY: Yeah.
ME: What did you say?
NANCY: I told him to quit marrying twelve-year olds.
ME: Well, there's really no arguing with that now is there?

Grandma Nancy isn't what I'd call...maternal.

PHONE CALL #4: Mom's Mom

I know I shouldn't play favorites but--

BIANCA: You were so good in your play!

--Grandma Bianca kind of kicks everyone else's ass.

BIANCA: But you should have had that other boy's part.
ME: Grandma, that 'boy' is forty-five.
BIANCA: He was so boring. It was like listening to paint dry.
ME: I'm not sure that makes a sound.
BIANCA: They could have put gray make-up on you, and you would have been fine.
ME: Eh, I liked my role.
BIANCA: You know who you should play? One of those cats.
ME: I'd rather kill myself.
BIANCA: What's wrong with being a cat?
ME: It's not really...Well, for one thing, I can't dance.
BIANCA: Since when can't you dance?
ME: Have you ever seen me dance?
BIANCA: You danced that one time at the wedding where you had that seizure.
ME: The dancing was the seizure.
BIANCA: Oh my...Well, I'm glad you don't seize.
ME: Thank you.
BIANCA: You know, you're my favorite, but don't tell your brothers.

She tells us all that.

All four phone calls took a total of three hours.

(My Thanksgivings usually last a total of three weeks.)

Next week I'm starting on the aunts and uncles...

Heaven help me.

Thout Shalt Bond with Family, James Bond

HOROSCOPE: Let a common bond unite you when it comes to family matters.

A well-known fact to everyone who knows me.

My family owns the Bond franchise.

Let me clarify.

My grandfather's cousin was Albert "Cubby" Broccoli, and his children own pretty much anything Ian Fleming ever wrote.

When I was kid this impressed me, because Ian Fleming also wrote Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

As I got older, I liked...bigger men.

ME: You know who was a hot Bond? Timothy Dalton.
ADAM: Oh my God, shut up. You are the only person on the face of the earth that liked Timothy Dalton.
ME: Hey! He was in The Rocketeer! Show a little respect.

My father's side of the family has always resented the fact that a mere limb away on the family tree sits a pile of money and prestige that we will never get to.

DAD: Unless they were all to die in some horrible accident.
ME: Dad!
DAD: I'm just saying!
ME: That's my line. Don't use that.

Over dinner at my Dad's house, we often discuss what we would do if that avalanche ever takes out all of the wealthy citizens of Long Island where the Rich Broccolis reside.

DAD: You know who'd make a good Bond girl? Heather Locklear.
ME: Dad, she's too old.
DAD: She's my age.
ME: You're old.
DAD: Hey!
STACEY: I think Jake Gyllenhaal would be a good James Bond.
ME: Yeah, if he ever manages to look something other than befuddled.
HARRY: Okay, I guess we all forgot you're the creative genius. Who would you cast?
ME: Me, duh!

Riotous laughter.

ME: Um, what's so funny? At least I'm a brunette, unlike that poser Daniel Craig.
DEANNA: If there was a gay James Bond, it should be--
STACEY: Jake Gyllenhaal.
DEANNA: Rupert Everett.
DAD: Liberace.

Silence.

DAD: What? Is he old, too?
ME: No, he's dead.

I could be such a kickass James Bond.

And my Bond boy?

HARRY: Are you kidding?
ME: Justin Chatwin would be such a choice Bond boy.
DEANNA: Whose he?
ME: Go watch The Invisible.
STACEY: I saw that. It wasn't every good.
ME: You have to watch it with the sound off to really enjoy his performance.
DAD: Okay, enough talk of desecrating the family cash cow.
ME: Were you not the one who wanted to cast the playmates from The Girls Next Door as the first ever Bond Blonde triplets?
DAD: That was a choice based on autistic merit.
HARRY: Dad, you mean artistic--
ME: No, he had it right the first time.

I guess you could say we all have...creative differences.

Thou Shalt Bang the Drum Slowly

Okay, so I've returned from a mini-hiatus.

www.thiscantbetheater.blogspot.com is still going.

But in the meantime, I still need to work on some things.

For one, I've always thought I should be able to play a musical instrument.

ADAM: Do you know how?
ME: No.
ADAM: Do you have the patience to learn?
ME: Sure. I can take a week or so.
ADAM: Why the sudden interest?
ME: It would be nice to have an actual skill.
ADAM: You mean besides being able to recite all of 'Modern Major General.'
ME: That's not a...yeah, I need to get on this.

I went through the list of potential musical instruments I could learn in a day or two.

The tambourine--a little too flaming.
The triangle--rock bands don't usually required them.
The xylophone--getting closer...

Drums.

I need to play the drums.

CARLY: Oooh drummers are hot.
ME: I know. I think I might have a shot at being legendary, like Pam's ex.
CARLY: Tommy Lee?
ME: Yeah, him.
CARLY: You'd be better off replicating some of his other...talents.
ME: Obvi, but for now let's talk about rhythm.
CARLY: Forget it. Use a condom.
ME: What?
CARLY: Oh, I thought you meant the method.
ME: Ah.
CARLY: Do you have any rhythm.
ME: Good question.

I decided to give my brother's set a try. I sat down and tried to play Wipeout.

I wiped out.

RORY: To be a drummer you have to lose all inhibition.
ME: Like Animal from the Muppets?
RORY: Who are the Muppets?
ME: Never mind, I'm old.
RORY: Just let yourself go.

I have major problems with that.

Anything that involves me letting loose makes me nervous.

Swing sets.
Twirling in a circle.
Letting people kiss the left side of my body.

It just makes me nervous.

BETH: I'm the same way with my right elbow. You kiss it; I scream and punch you.
ME: Why would anyone kiss your right elbow?
BETH: I dated a guy who was into elbows.
ME: Let's get off that topic as quick as possible.
BETH: Are you going to try the drums again?
ME: Yeah, tonight.
BETH: Just do it Animal.
ME: LADY! LADY!
BETH: Okay, that's just scary.

I sat down at the drum set, and tried to let go. After a few minutes, I was jamming away, but it didn't sound good at all.

My stepfather Roger heard me and came downstairs.

ROGER: I thought it was Rory, but I didn't hear any obscenities.
ME: It didn't sound good, did it?
ROGER: It sounded fun.
ME: Is that good or bad?
ROGER: Kevin, your problem starts with you even asking that question.
ME: Huh?
ROGER: Who cares if it's bad? Music is supposed to be fun. For you.
ME: Thanks Mr. Holland.
ROGER: Any time.

He went upstairs and I started to drum again.

Somewhere along the way, the music stopped being anything but a riot.

And I mean that in the best sense of the word.

I'm even thinking of starting my own band--

The Kevin Broccoli Tambourine Music Project But With No Tambourine Cause We're Better Than That

It could be kind of a big deal.

Thou Shalt Put on a Show

HOROSCOPE: Today's the day to take on that endeavor that you've been too afraid to try.

Eating a tomato it is.

Just kidding.

ADAM: You're going to put on a show?
ME: You know, I bounce around from theater to theater, and hope and pray that I'm going to strike gold every time. Why don't I just make my own gold?
ADAM: Because only the Earth can do that. It's geography.
ME: You mean geology?
ADAM: Whatever. Point being, you can't just decide you're going to put on a show and then do it. You're not Mickey Rooney, and I am not Judy Garland.
ME: You're not?
ADAM: Okay, maybe in the shower, but otherwise--

It's not like I'm completely naive to what it takes to get a production together.

Good people.
Lots of outside support.
A script people can get behind.

BETH: Money, money, money, money--
ME: Yes, I'm aware that--
BETH: Money, money, money, money--
ME: OKAY! OKAY!
BETH: And you have none.
ME: I got along just fine in college when I was doing shows without that much money.
BETH: That was because space rental was free. That's what's going to kill you. The cost of space.
ME: There has to be some way around that. How did they do it in Shakespeare's time?
BETH: They declared war on the theater owners.
ME: That's not completely out of the question yet.

I kept reading through scripts to find that magical work. It has to be something so momentous I can't help but push for it.

So far the stage version of Growing Pains and Fraggle Rock: A Media Extravaganza! are out of the running.

CARLY: Theater snob.
ME: I just want to wow people.
CARLY: Then quilt. Theater doesn't wow anymore.
ME: It could--give the right--um--
CARLY: Given a miracle?
ME: Yeah, one of those would help.
CARLY: I'd offer to lend my support, but I don't like to fail at anything.
ME: Can you at least work box office?
CARLY: For a show that's never going to happen? Sure. Count me in.

An undertaking like this means I'm going to have put everything else aside.

SHANE: Huh?
ME: Not you, sweetie. But you may have to act in it.
SHANE: Sweet!

This blog, however, has to go.

In its place, I'm going to document everything about what it takes to put on this show.

That's right--it's a brand new blog.

www.thiscantbetheater.blogspot.com

Get ready to be wowed.

Thou Shalt Be On Time

HOROSCOPE: You're very often late--kick that habit before it kicks you.

Thanks, Poor Richard. You want me to invent a cast-iron stove while I'm at it?

Yes, I'm late.

I'm late a lot.

I have a big problem being punctual, but from now, no more!

ADAM: I'm proud of you.
ME: Thank you, Adam.
ADAM: You realize you were supposed to meet me fifteen minutes ago, right?
ME: DAMN!

As I raced to meet Adam, I wondered why I'm always behind the clock?

SHANE: It might be your ego. People who are always late tend to believe the world can wait for them.
ME: I never think that! If anything I'm mortified every time I'm late. I used to skip classes rather than be late in college.
SHANE: That's a little extreme.
ME: Well, it was usually Introduction to Computers, so it's not like I put up much of a fight.
SHANE: Babe, I don't care if you're late. It doesn't bother me.
ME: But it bothers me. You're right when you say it makes me look ego maniacal, not to mention insensitive. And I'm not insensitive at all!
SHANE: Shouldn't you be getting off the phone so you can get to Adam?
ME: Oh, he can wait.

I ended up only being about ten minutes late--Adam, as usual, was exaggerating. After the movie we went out to eat. Carly and Beth joined us.

CARLY: So do you just have no concept of time? I get like that sometimes when I'm making love. It seems like hours have gone by and it's been only a few minutes.
ADAM: You're hooking up with that guy Bad in Bed Bobby again, aren't you?
CARLY: It's called a dry spell, Adam. You try living through it.
ME: I have a concept of time. It's just...I'm scared of getting anywhere before people.
BETH: Why?
ME: Because--
BETH: Because they might not show up.
CARLY: You're not the one taking a chance.
ADAM: If you show up late, either they're there or they're not there, but the power was in your hands.
ME: Wow...a fear of rejection. Like when I would wait for my dad to pick me up and he wouldn't show.
CARLY: That's a bit of a stretch.
ME: It's okay. Anything I can blame my father for is fine with me.

So now I just have to get over my fear of rejection--not nearly as easy as making sure I'm on time. I came up with a new system for ensuring I'd be all right.

ME: So you're there now?
SHANE: Yes, I'm here. I'm right here.
ME: You're going to be there when I get there.
SHANE: Yup.
ME: You're not somewhere else and just saying you're there, right?
SHANE: No, and I'd also like to mention that only a crazy person would do that and I'm not crazy.
ME: No, but I am. I love you.
SHANE: I love you, too.

Sometimes a little support goes a long way to getting you where you need to be...on time.

Thou Shalt Be Mr. Popular

Horoscope: You're especially charismatic today, so go out and work it. Surround yourself with strangers, and treat them like friends.

Easier said than done, horoscope. I live in Rhode Island, what strangers am I supposed to meet? You can barely walk down the road in this state without running into a former boyfriend, your dentist, or both.

ADAM: Oh Dr. Schweitzer, we shared so much more than dental hygiene tips.

I decided that the only way to make new friends and be the life of the party was to find a party I could be the life of--

ADAM: Huh?

--or something like that.

ADAM: Try going to a straight bar.
ME: You want me to be a one-man guerrilla take-over? What am I supposed to win them over with? Witty anecdotes about my dating life?
ADAM: Yeah, pass out printed entries from your 100 Hookups blog and let the fun begin.
ME: Or I could just strive to be friendly and see who I meet?
ADAM: Chances are you're going to meet a lot of freaks. I say go for it!
ME: Laugh it up, broseph, but guess whose coming with me?
ADAM: Beth? Carly? Shane, whose required to because he's your love prisoner?
ME: Try again.

Adam and I went out and I made a solid effort to meet and talk to new people.

It didn't go over as I planned.

ME: Hi, I'm Kevin. I don't think we've met.
NEWBIE #1: Actually, we have. You attacked my boyfriend once.
ME: I did.
NEWBIE #1: You two went out on a date and when you got him back to your place you lunged at him.
ADAM: He had rabies for awhile there. You'll have to forgive him.
ME: I never lunged at anybody! I'm not a gazelle!
NEWBIE #1: Whatever. He and I have moved past it and we're now very happy together.
ADAM: Is that him making out with that shotboy?
NEWBIE #1: Jesus Christ, not again!

Second time around...

ME: Hi, I'm Kevin. I don't think we've met.
NEWBIE #2: Actually we went to school together.
ME: We did?
NEWBIE #2: Yeah, I was in your gym class in high school.
ME: Shut up! I don't remember you.
NEWBIE #2: That's because you called me Frosted Flakes.
ME: Frosted Flakes! With the flaky dandruff hair--ohhh, I'm so sorry. I was such a bitch in high school.
ADAM: Oh, so much has changed since then. Turn away, Ali Sheedy, I feel like its snowing.

Third time's a charm.

ME: Hi, I'm Kevin. I don't think we've met.
NEWBIE #3: You're right. We haven't.
ME: Jackpot!
NEWBIE #3: Wanna do some blow in my car?
ME: Como estas?
ADAM: Donde mi integrito?

I give up.

On the way back from the car, I felt despondent. Not only was I not Mr. Popular, but it seemed like way more people dislike me than I originally though.

ADAM: Look at it this way, most people barely have enough time for their friends. Why bother getting all new ones you're going to have even less time for?

Leave it to Adam to come up with an insensitive, and yet, practical solution.

ME: Want to get IHOP with me?
ADAM: Nah, I've had enough of you for the night.

And he keeps me very, very grounded.

I suppose I'll have to be charming and magnetic some other day.

Until then, I'm flying solo.