July 28, 2011 § 1 Comment

So let us back track a bit and recount an amazing story that occurred right when I moved down here… It’s a story involving, yours truly, Gitana and her amazing counterpart English Rose. It was a warm Saturday and I was itching to go to Dodger Stadium to root for my team–THE GIANTS. But unfortunately this was post-Brian Stow attack and most, if not all, of my newly befriended male acquaintances were all too chicken shit to go with me– an innocent and non-threatening Giants fan. (wah) Just as a sidebar, I GET why men are scared–and it’s totally understandable–most punks and feisty ex-convicts want to get drunk and pick fights upon the weak and nimble (I should know, I dated a gangbanger for almost 3 years, double-wah). But COME ON! I will be an upstanding Giants fan while attending Dodger Stadium! I vow to: A) be adorable at all times to diffuse any and all potential “threats” by overwhelming men and women alike with my self-deprecating charm and raucous wit! B) be an equally funny and adorable drunk :) –and not even get totally “drunk” because I am a realist, and in the event lightening strikes, I will need to BOLT into action and C) I always like Dodger fans for the most part–I mean I respect the Dodgers as historically one of the first MLB teams to employ the most Mexican players…it’s just…well… I HAVE to hate them being from SF.

Ok let me get to the point of this posting because my sidebar was rather a long-venting-bitch sess…

Gitana and English Rose decided, rather than risk going solo style to Dodger Stadium, sans male accompaniment, we shall go to a local drinkery and watch the game. I think we opted on patronizing the “Short Stop,” located on Sunset in Echo Park; mostly due to the proximity to ER’s house.  As much as we looooathe hipsters, generally we can scope some foxy “normals” in the crowd, so the hipster’s annoying pretension can be tolerated for the duration of the event.  Also, since I wasn’t ready to DIE for the Giants by getting side-shanked, shived, gashed, ganked, slashed, or just plain-ol’ stabbed, I figured moderate day-drinking would be appropriate, safe fun.

Let me describe quite possibly the least offensive Giants outfit imaginable– I was decked in only my SF hat with a black tube top and crop shorts, with my Adidas sambas and matching jacket to look “sporty….” and kind of lezy since I loove my sambas and rock them more than high heels (and I’m from SF where straight girls look like dykes! haha ok that’s not fair and I just dissed myself). I decided, let me one-up myself and wear some false eyelashes-BAM- no one is gona mess with me now and/or call me an ugly Giants fan! DONE. Plus, as I think I’ve mentioned in prior posts, I have a fantasy of being with a Dodger fan–you know, two deadly opposites attracted and united by their common love of baseball. Well, reality check, it probably won’t be that fucking hard to find here!

                                                                                                     Sambas are legit!

While I was trying to focus all my attention on the tiny flat screen awkwardly positioned in the corner of the bar, THE quintessential rock scenester–totally drunk of course– lurched towards me like a zombie about to pounce on his first feast of flesh… He approached with the subtlety of a half-starved tiger approaching a bloody gazelle carcass and dared enter my personal space and attempt to “charm” with his asshole aloof demeanor. His opening line was something about my Giants hat and he made the “astute” observation that yes, I was indeed a Giants fan. Now a conversation with a scenester wouldn’t be complete unless he managed to gloat about himself for the entire duration of the conversation. This is a rough, very rough, transcription of that conversation:

Scene: Short Stop Bar, approximately 3:00 p.m., on a sunny and warm afternoon in May, about 10 people in the bar.  It’s empty and sparse with the only lively conversations occurring amongst the bartending staff and bouncer…Scenester in the corner of the bar, lurking about in the shadows. He looks like Marky Mark, with long dirty blonde hair, Italian nose that has been broken, with cuts and bruises displayed on his face and arms that accentuate his pale pallor. He has an attractive, drunk, and stoic Mexican scenester counterpart that looks like a brown American Apparel model–and with the fucking attitude to match. Two attractive women sit quietly at the edge of the bar to watch the Giants vs. Dodgers game in silence when….

Scenester: [yelling at high volume in my ear whilst spitting in it] YOU KNOW, I’M FROM SAN FRANCISCO. [at this point he stretches out his forearm to reveal a "tattoo-scene" of a cable car, the Golden Gate Bridge and Coit Tower]

Me: Ohh…wow…yes you are from San Francisco [said in facetious tone while I'm thinking how unoriginal and lame this SF montage is--SIDEBAR: I just have to comment that this would be like me getting the Hollywood sign tattooed on my forearm to somehow validate and justify to the mere-bar skeptic that I am now an Angelino and this is proven by the ink burned into my skin. All just to prove what?? Ok back to the transcript]

S[guzzling his PBR and growing progressively louder despite the fact there is very little noise inside the bar with the exception of the jukebox] SO… WHAT DO YOU GIRLS DO??

Me: I’m an Investigator.

English Rose: [said in completely dejected voice] I’m a graphic designer for a non-profit…

S: OH WOW, YOU GUYS HAVE REAL JOBS? [Look of elitist pretentiousness, while sipping more of his PBR]

Me: Yes unfortunately…[forcing a response back] why what do you do?

S: Oh, me? I work on the set of Entourage…[Knowing that his job is supremely superior, waits for our looks of approval and shocked bewilderment. When he does not receive this validation, he proceeds to talk about the nature of his job, although, thinking back, it is still not clear to me what the hell he did--for all I know he was the coffee gopher.]….Ya Jeremy Priven is an asshole.

Let me just take a break from the script for a moment and note that, although his self-absorbed conversations, persistent flirting, and general “asshole vibe” were by no means acceptable,  the only reason I agreed to continue this conversation was despite the fact that he was clearly inebriated and annoying, he was pretty darn witty and quasi attractive (which I truly hate to admit!) . As he, like most men, always fail at making a solid first impression, he made the classic guy-mistake and proceeded to talk about himself, his achievements, the fact he was wealthy (most likely a trust fund baby living off his parents wealth and is the royal-fuck up of the family) and the HUGE mistake of mentioning he has a girlfriend–Sadie was her name, as I recall.  Oh right we have gotten there yet…

Scene: [Scenester aggressively talking about baseball stats with me and trying to "debate" players and batting/pitching strategies--which I know very little about. He then moves closer to my stool to make contact and begins to compliment me....]

S: [addressed to me in devilishly coy tone] Wow you are soooo cute…[leans in for a kiss]


S: [Smirks at my rejection and tries again, this time getting really close to my face]

Me: [Smiling and dodging his lips and pushing him away]

ER: Whoa there buddy! Keep it to yourself! [at this point ER is practically mentally transported herself from the conversation, realizing how absolutely preposterous and what a "character" this scenester has totally made of himself. She was laughing at his multiple attempts to "make out" with me--it was sort of like that scene from Dumb & Dumber when Jim Carrey lunges at Lauren Holly and then proceeds to EAT her face...ya...something like that]

I’m not sure exactly how it came up, but one thing lead to another and the fact that he has a girlfriend came out and me and English Rose were ALL OVER IT–basically trying to make him feel horrible for hitting on me and trying to kiss me. He insisted that “Sadie is cool with it,” to which me and ER continued to prod and ask, “Well where is she then?” He actually whipped out his iPhone and showed us their texts and she didn’t respond after he invited her to Short Stop…(to be honest he seemed like such an intolerable shit show, I can understand why she wouldn’t want to go). OH, I FORGOT TO MENTION–at the onset of our conversation, he recounts some story in which he was obscenely drunk (surprise surprise) and ends up showing up at someone’s house, ringing the doorbell over and over thinking there was this party there. Well, turns out, it was the wrong house and they called the cops on him. Since Scenester was sooooo drunk, he was being belligerent and aggressive so, what better way to treat a belligerent scenester? Give him the ol’ Rodney King–a real LA cop beating. So they ended up hitting him with batons, breaking his nose and slamming him against the hood of the police car….until of course they “discovered” who he was (or the person he perceived himself to be) and treated him nicely due to his “connections” working on Entourage. Completely preposterous and possibly untrue.

Ok the best part of this story, in my opinion, is the fact that in spite of him mentioning he has a girlfriend to me, he is relentless in his pursuits to make out with me and/or bang me. Not gona lie and if I wasn’t drunk, AND considering my penchant for assholes, he seemed right up my alley–at the very least only to make out with for a minute. Well, you will be happy to know Gitana DID NOT do anything (mostly because she didn’t want English Rose to judge her sociologically slutty ways!). But as he was leaving he left me with this parting thought…”Are you sure you don’t want to have sex with me? I’m really hung. Feel it. Go ahead. Feel it.” DAMN HIM! How did he know I would totally have touched it! In part to see if he was really “hung” and two, just to push the envelope and give him a little parting gift. Meh. Oh well. Plenty of peens out there to touch…

If only he looked like this…(sigh)….doesn’t that picture just scream “Let me wine you and dine you”?

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