Sunday, April 15, 2007

Gin gimlets and my infinitesimal complex.

So my friend Lois is in Phila for only another month before she re-joins her 'vapid, but loving it' city of Los Angeles for good. So before I pull out my "Where's Lois" t-shirt that I will wear with pride, we figured we need to make the most of this time left. 11:30pm and we head to Snack Bar, which is the greatest thing to hit Center City in a while, to situate ourselves in posh mode, drinking ten dollar drinks, talking about handbags we don't even want to afford. But this is me and Lo, and we of course, move onto other topics of conversation. Mainly boys.

The bartender is totes cute. Friendly, dark hair, funny, diesel jeans and straight. which, if you know anything about Philadelphia or read my blog, this is a rather hard thing to find. So we're chatting it up, laughing, having a good time. He tells me he makes a damn good gimlet. I tell him to hook me up, but to make mine with gin. which evidently is hardcore and i get some recognition for that which makes me slightly impressed with myself. Next thing you know, this tiny, 4 foot 11 girl comes out of nowhere and is being all snuggly sweet with the bartender, in only the way that tiny, 4 foot 11 girls can be. Lo and I simultaneously take large gulps of our gimlets and let the fun begin. This chick has short hair, which all the more contributes to her 'I'm a 12 year old boy' look. But she can still wear a size 0, and so for that she has me beat. and she can snuggle up to this guy in that perfect, 'i-fit-right-under-your-arm-beneath-your-head' way that i never seem to be able to comfortably do. But I mean, Lo and I, we're fun girls. Like Xtina says, "can't hold us back". (Then again, Xtina is a little girl.) So I mean, we do it up. We talk, we laugh, we flirt, we effectively piss this girl off.
Listen, I'm 5 foot 7. with large childbearing hips for children i don't want. i have an ass. my Seven jeans are a size 30. in a thin month. i can't wear the tiny little tanks that are oh-so-cute in the summer. when i wear heels, i don't look like i'm playing dress up in my mom's closet. i will never be a tiny girl. i'm going to be 25 and i'm still trying to reconcile that notion. God knows, my friend Liesl and I never figured it out in high school or college. And clearly, three years after that, and I'm still here.
what happened to sweating the hot amazonian look? when did that go away????
models in america are hot. curves are not. No, men in america prefer little boys. or asian girls. i'm fucked.
asian girls and little girls who look like 12 year old boys. this is my competition.
So, finally, crunk off one huge gimlet, we say we're leaving, the bartender tells us we shouldn't go. The infinitesimal girl rolls her eyes, and scene. Whatever. Our work is done. And in all our 5 foot 7, badonkadonk glory, we squeeze between the bar and the door, while the 12 year old stands on her tiptoes to kiss her bartender.

On that note, I'm off to do a one mile "fun run" in torrential downpour at the Mann Center in order to help eliminate the epidemic of youth violence in Philadelphia. And the fact that Physicians for Social Responsibility has organized it has nothing to do with it. Really.

1 comment:

Nick said...

AHAHAHAHAHAH....that story is still amazing like a week later...I'm so proud of your keeps me sane and makes me realize the real world does just have to knock a few caddy bitches and 12 year olds out of the way first before you find the people that matter. I hate writing this paper by the way...and oh download james blunt...def wrist cutting music..its amazing