All day yesterday (aka Fat Sunday) I was picking paint chips out of my rather long auburn hair. The flecks of paint were bright pink so you can imagine what kind of picture this made when I went out in public. Sam the deli guy, as he packed up my egg-white and spinach omelet, was gracious enough to point this out. He said kindly, in his middle-eastern accent,"What is with your pink dandruff? Not so nice with red hair."
He did also tell me that I smelled good enough to give him a heart attack. I still don't know how I should take that. I'm going with nervous.
As I paid for my food and directly after Sam the deli guy asked the man behind me for a defibrillator, I got a phone call from my friend Layla. She happily pieced together the night for me.
- Location: Restaurant Bar Drink: Martini
- Location: Cafe Luxembourg Drink: A bottle of wine
- Location: Dive Bar Drink: A pitcher of Miller Light
- Location: Wine Bar Drink: Two glasses of wine
Somewhere between Location 3 and location 4, I lost all ability to make sense. I know this because my friends asked me dating advice (I guess because I go out a lot, I'm an expert?) and I completely and utterly mucked it up. I believe the question was somewhere along the lines of "Lola, how do you handle it so well?" This is what I wanted to tell them:
"Well you see, it's probably because I don't take a lot of time analyzing conversations or figuring out whether or not to say certain things. I'm very comfortable in my own skin and so having self confidence is extremely helpful. I don't play games and I figure anyone who does isn't really worth my time. Basically, I am who I am and I know that there are going to be people who won't like me. Just as I know there will be people who I won't like. So really what's the point of getting so upset over someone not feeling the same way?"
However when translating the above paragraph into Drunken-Lola-Speak, it came out as the following statement: "I just don't give a shit about anything!"
Keep in mind that I was standing up at the time, gesturing wildly to get my point across as wine sloshed over the rim of my glass. So this dating expert must have made quite the attractive picture! After more of my unintelligible advice, they decided to get some food in me. On my way to the pizza place, I thanked all the pizza delivery guys for the way in which they deliver their pizzas. None of them spoke English so they may have actually understood what I was trying to say to them.
After I declared to the table next to me that I liked to blog, I banged my head against the wall when I threw my head back in laughter. This made my friends crack up so I did it again because apparently: the sound of my head cracking against the wall + their residual giggles = Delight. This is also where the origin of the pink paint was thought to be. Alas, I was informed earlier today that the wall to the pizza place was not pink.
So, sadly, the pink paint remains a mystery. Maybe it's better that way. The reality probably can't match up to what I have imagined in my head.