When I say I love chain unironically I mean it. At
least I think I do.
Then that How about we… advertising on Eater
finally go to me and I clicked. Who are all these horrible people who want to
"get crafty at Tørst in Greenpoint" or " go backstage at
the taping of the Jon Stewart Show using my American Federation of Television
& Radio Actors membership card and meet " or "take a Yoga or
Pilates class together at Equinox on 74th and 2nd?" or can't even fill in
the blank properly and write a whole new sentence?
How about we… a
bespoke cocktail later this evening at ward 3. by this evening I mean thurs
What? We are bespoke cocktails?
How about we pretend I never went to that site? Except that
I had to create a login to see the profiles and now I get a daily email, which
I don't hate enough yet to unsubscribe from.
And if I had I would've missed this dude from Bayonne who wants
to go to the Shannon Rose. I've wanted to go to the Shannon Rose "Northern New Jersey's premiere Irish Pub & Restaurant" for at
least a year. But I hadn't pictured myself going with a Catholic hockey guy,
and I don't think that means I only want to experience the Shannon Rose for the
lulz. Saturday night I was eating white tuna sashimi (you
know that's escolar, a.k.a. the shit fish, right?) at a Paramus Bonefish Grill
attached to a Crowne Plaza (two Bonefishes in three months is a lot even for
me) and there was no mocking.
Also, I'm half-remorseful for using this person's
real photo behind his back. I would say that it doesn't matter because he
couldn't possibly be reading this, but you just never know. Someone recently
recognized me outside my apartment building from reading this blog (hi
girlfriend of the guy who lives here! I will not shit-talk neighbors, for sure
now). At least nine years ago I took a letterpress class because I have a
degree in printmaking but obviously don't use it and was full of minor regret
because by the mid-2000s letterpress everything was hot shit. But the class was
full of ladies making wedding invitations and I complained about it here and
the teacher emailed me to say that she was a reader of my blog and agreed with
my dismay, though she never let on in class. That was mortifying.
So, Bayonne guy, sorry. I don't mean to judge you
and I'm sure a nice lady in New Jersey will eventually take you up on your chain
Irish bar suggestion.