Monday, December 19, 2005

"i'm kind of burnt out from that place," she said. "it gets kind of old, u see a lot of girls there with fake boobs and packed on make-up."
"fake-boobs, in cleveland?" i blurted out.
she turned her head and glared at me for a second. and then she continued telling her story about how she used to enjoy hanging out there but not so much anymore, which was fine by her.

fake-boobs in cleveland, just seem utterly ridiclous. granted the concept of cosmetically placing plastic baggies full of jello into your body, regardless of where you reside, is obserd in itself. but in cleveland? who? what? why? are you trying to prove? or impress? i don't get it.

but then again, i don't get much about cleveland.

on friday night, we went to this bar (that "she" above does not enjoy patronizing anymore) in the suburbs of the typical-small-all-american-city of cleveland, ohio. at first glance it was quite a typical bar with a typical scene. except, for one thing.

ok, ok, two things,
after finishing my first $2 beer i began to scan the room for potential boys to flirt with. i made eye contact with one, and then with two sitting together and i roamed around the bar, waiting for something to happen, but nothing happened so i was forced to buy another beer. as i'm waiting for my second round, i again, make eye contact with the boys around the bar, they see me and smile back, i accept my beer from the waitress and take a sip, look back one more time and then turn around and talk to my friend. waiting, and waiting, for one of the boys to come and talk to us. only after i am more then half-way done my second beer, i realize, that if i want to talk to them, if i want a free round, if i want to be entertained with flirtish stories, we are going to have to walk up to them

and so we did, and so they responded well, they bought us a round, they talked to us, and they told us semi-flirtish stories, one even gave me his business card. and then, like most flirthing does, it came to a point to stop and move on. and so i began to make new eye-contacts and again the same scenerio happened over again. this time the guy says to me, "i knew you were going to talk to me when i walked into the bar." "how did you know that?" i responded. "you made eye-contact," he said as he shrugged his shoulders.

Oh. i get it. eye-contact is a sign that i am desperately wanting to come over and tell you how adorable you are??? what the hell? that is not how it works you cleveland boys! you are suppose to chase the girl. the girl is not suppose to chase you. and hell, with beers being $2 a pop and all of your ordinary all-american looks, you'd better think of a way to be charming, and mysterious. not lazy.

and so, i dont get why cleveland girls, that go to that bar, order themselves painful surgery for leeky boobs. how do they work in your favor? cleveland boys are backwards, and your boobs cost about 4 years worth of rounds at the bars here. so save your money, and for your sole get out of cleveland and find a real boy. (o, in case, you cleveland girls dont know, a real boy asks for your number, keeps his business cards in his pocket, and calls you within the following week, buys you and your friends a round and picks you up at the bar first, without you having to work at it.)


Blogger concha said...

woah. then i guess i've landed a fake one.

you poor girl, you need to get out of there. but don't cme can't get a subway...

1:41 PM  
Blogger Anj said...

The good news is $2 beers!

8:53 AM  

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