xtian and evil pick up chicks

Two Fridays ago, you would have found me lying on my bed, working with a laptop squarely on my chest, as you do and I was quickly getting bored. I decided it was time to take Evil up on his offer and crash his office.

I dressed in a pair of jeans and a semi-sheer white button down shirt. The sort of shirt people get away with when they work out a lot, have a good tan and live in Miami…I am not quite any of those things but still I try in vain…

I arrive at the office and am seen into evil’s office. We spend about 30 minutes stalking around with Evil checking women out. I wonder what he actually does for a living at this point.

At some point we find our way back to his office, he’s sending an email. I am slumped on a chair close by. I find his office mate attractive…she’s tall, dark and very smart…those three variables all work for me…I try to kick it to here, ignoring the fact that she is clearly trying to work

“what’s up?”
“huh?”
the conversation is awkward and stilted till we drift onto Mormons…and her story that Mormons cannot consume caffeine except in the form of some company in whose stock they may own…like if you own coke stock and you’re a Mormon you can drink coke because then you are simply supporting your own financial well being or something. I thought this whole line of thinking dumb and she continued to press it as being so later explaining that she grew up with many Mormons in Oakland, Ca! ?!!? Is she drinking? Oakland and Mormons where? I know Oakland and claim my allegiance to the region.

Evil tries to save this awkward situation by pressing for a flip cup tournament…no one wants in…he then presses for a situation where we all get drinks…she claims she has too much work to do…in the end its just Evil on the elevator by ourselves wondering what to do…I’ll leave out the part where I noticed her escaping out a side entrance… minutes after we said our goodbyes

Later, we are The Other Room I spy a waitress with way too much confidence. Evil and I are hunched over at the bar wondering what to do. She is just off shift and sitting there staring at her depressed dog who has not moved in an hour. I start speaking to her calmly. We discuss the band playing on the ipod (The National...the song about astronauts...) at some length. Some hipster at the other end of the bar tries to include himself in the conversation and talking about his affinity for the band...no one cares

Our conversation has an ok pace. I'm enjoying it. I come to a logical point where I inquire what she has planned for the evening not sure what I would get out of this information. She admitted she was torn...either go to a party she was not interested in or painting her apartment a project she has been attempting to start for 4 months. As she speaks its still unclear to me what to say next, I'm hoping something brilliant will come out. but it does not seem likely.

Finally she commits to going home and painting but does not move...either then or for the next twenty minutes...she and her depressed dog maybe have a lot in common. As we leave I say something silly that makes her smile but not that much.

On the street heading towards a destiny that includes 18lbs of BBQ meats, Evil rightly points out that the depressed bartender would rather watch paint dry than hang out with me.