Hello, I saw you while I was buying the weekly micro-brew on sale. It was Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. You were cute, and had a vaguely alternative look about you. You either looked at me twice while in an adjacent check-out line with Ben and Jerry’s, had blue hair and walked by with your boyfriend, or had a green down filled vest. If you are the vest girl, I didn’t actually see your face. Your vest caught my eye as I got into my car. You might have been beautiful.
Next time I see you on a Friday night, and I have Pale Ale, maybe you could smile more directly at me - because you are cute, and I would rather share my beer with you than drink it alone while watching Jim Jarmusch movies. You see, I am shy. But I am not homely, and I have beer. Are these enough qualifications for your vaguely alternative persona?
About the fish smell in my apartment: you see, just hours ago before venturing out into the world of solitary Fridays, I thought I would take the garbage out. I have been busy, and it was full. Somehow, a hole formed in my cheap Rainbow Grocery Outlet garbage bags, and garbage juice flowed out onto the floor and recyclable goods. Oh no! Unfortunately, I had also cleaned out my freezer earlier that week, and the garbage contained a bag of once frozen but now soupy and old… halibut. The halibut/garbage party had been keeping to itself for a number of days, but disturbing its festering slumber made the soup very angry. Angry meaning an intoxicating mix of ammonia, vinegar, and fish. A smell that currently remains. That’s why I couldn’t invite to my apartment. Or why, in my imagined scenario in which you needed me to let you into the far side of the building through the opening near my doorway, fish smell emanated from my doorway after I went to put the beer away before leading you down the underground hallway to your destination.
Okay. That’s what I thought after seeing you, and sat down to watch my movies and drink my beer. That’s all.