Rats! Good grief. You know what little man would say. It’s really not that bad as long as you have a dog. You shouldn’t wear the same shirt every day unless it’s a really perfect shirt. Going bald early sometimes cannot be helped. And of course, Lucy Van Pelt is my hero. Grab those nuts and bust ‘em…

This Shit Is Peanuts

But just ‘coz we’re back innit doesn’t mean a damn thing. Anyone who is interesting has already graduated or taken the stairs. Being a senior in colly is something I’ll only mention if you force it out of me, or if I have to talk the shit about school. I blush the color of a vodka cranberry and swing the conversation over to business. I hide my composition notebooks and refuse to babysit freshmen. They think they’re dating me, but I’m only holding hands so that they make it across Broad St. safely.

Wearing a Colt 45 paper towel in lieu of a dress, I soaked up my schedule-free days best I could. I went to Click. You went to Click. You know what happened. Someone hit the panic button on gonuts time and everyone decided to show face over the week-n. There’s only one person who is allowed to announce the end of summer, and it’s not me. If you went to get your smoke on there was a line outside of Fluid to get back in. It closely resembled the waiting line back when K-Mart had layaway and Momz made you pick out back to school clothes in June. While in it you texted me thinking I could magically get you back in by saying the word Philebrity. That’s a sign to stop drinking, a leap of faith, and something I wouldn’t try because it’s a toolbag move, but I got a giggle-sex laugh out of it.

Did you ever roll up to Dempsey’s Irish Pub just for the hell of it? Or better still, for the $1 Red Cup Special? Put anything in a red plastic cup and it’s gonna fuck you up on principle. Maybe it’s the polystyrene in the plastic? More likely it’s that you’re in the Port-Light Zone, that blurry boundary between neighborhoods that could be Fish, could be Rich, could get blended into a “bartender, I’ll have another” request to make it all go away. I’m not an explorer, but there is thirsty, there is curious. I’ll try any bar once, as long as there’s a grizzle-bearded story sitting on a stool when I walk in.

Turn your eyes to all of September, which looks like a fresh glass of Party with a golden bendy straw. I’m diving nerd-first into Fringe Fest, Sunday’s Click. at the Vac, more Faux Pas, new bar-jocking, and come what do. Get busy on it. If flyers were printed in English on one side and French on the other, I could probably pull a B in French Part Deux. I can only sponge so much foreign slang from Para One, who pop up at ze next Click conveniently enough, before I crave more concentric blogging-background jams.

Jersey Dan’s Autumn Awesome

Have you met Java Monster? Been shotgunning these suckers every morning? Now you can unleash the beast in the evening.

Java Monster or frappucino
Jameson Irish Whiskey
Touch of butterscotch Schnapps

Mix and down. No bullshit.

DO WANT/DO NOT WANT

Hemp Backpacks/Backpacks In Bars
The Word W/Daniel Holloway/Rocky Blogs
Fall Sports Hope/Hipster Olympics
Return Of Pumpkin Spice/Invasion Of New & Returning Students

TrendFucking

Night Classes

Let’s take care of the backpacks in bars thing, which is really tragic considering the few occasions that I’ve spotted it, the perp is always toting a clearly EMPTY backpack. Stop carrying your irony with you. Because guess what? You’re not going backpacking at the Pope tonight. Yet you’re not going to up and disappear from the sizzcene just because you’re on education. Late classes are your new hot, that way you can ease the brain with a nightcap on the way home and still be in the Club Kid Yearbook. Cheers to you. Leave the Northface at home.

This entry was posted on Thursday, August 30th, 2007 at 10:55 am.