Author's Note: This was originally posted Friday on Tumblr but, really, I feel like I need to share my awkwardness with the widest possible audience, in the hopes that eventually I'll be shamed into acting like a Real Human.
Gentlemen, start your cringe-ines.
The coffee shop downstairs has inexplicably started opening at noon and as soon as I saw the owners putting their umbrellas out on the patio, I nipped down to liberate a pair of Diet Cokes from the fridge, like I was gonna build an ark for phenalalanines.
Anyway, I’m in full-on deadline mode today, which means my ratty Sox hat, a wrinkled Nick Lowe Jesus of Cool tee, and a deep-set scowl. I had just dropped a can directly on the top of my foot and was giving The Real Jesus an interesting set of surnames when I turned and smacked into the sternum of a fortysomething Peter Gallagher lookalike, assuming Mr. Gallagher ever weed-whacked his eyebrows.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” I said, because I’m smooth like that.
“No problem. I love the sound of breaking glass.”
I almost turned to see if I’d actually shattered the refrigerator door when I slammed it but then realized that HE WAS QUOTING A NICK LOWE SONG FROM THE VERY ALBUM SCREENPRINTED ON MY CHEST.
“Wow, you’re a Nick Lowe fan?”
He smiled again, reaching over my shoulder to grab a soda.
“Been a Basher fan for years. I had that album when it came out.”
I didn’t know what to say. He was obviously waiting for me to do something, staring at me expectantly with a pair of blue eyes the color of holy shit I want to make out with him. I fumbled. “Yeah, it’s stellar, start to finish.” I backed away, dropping a stack of quarters on the counter. AND THEN I PANICKED.
“Well, cool, excellent. See you, then.” I hurried out the door, pausing only when I dropped the other can and Pele’d it across the patio until it exploded against the side of the building.
And so it goes and so it goes
But where it’s goin’, no one knows