Friday the 13th
Here’s what happened on Friday:
My sister got into her master’s program. I’m so happy for her. Once, Simon Cowell said, “I don’t get this ‘happy for’ thing. How can you be happy for someone… oh, silly Americans!” (That was paraphrasing). Anyway, I thought about that for awhile at the time, and was like, “Simon, maybe you have a point.” But then, on Friday, I thought about that again, and thought, “Wait, Simon, I don’t think you have a heart and/or feelings–you can totally be happy for someone.” Like, when I found out about my sister and her grad school, it put me in a good mood for the rest of the day, even though nothing good had happened to me, per se.
Also, I was in a good mood because we went on an adventure to Flushing and had delicious food. A rundown of what I ate:
*A cannoli
*Tiramisu
*Bubble tea
*Lamb, crab, and rabbit (aaah! Chocolate Chip!)
*1,000-year-old egg
*Soup dumplings (here’s a peek into guys’ brains: “Now I know what he’d look like with balls in his face”).
This was followed by 4 guys looking to me kind of guiltily and saying, “This is what we talk about. What do girls talk about?” and me realizing that I have no idea. I’ve never thought of my topics of conversation in terms of, “I’m a girl, talking.” It’s just been like, “I’m talking.” I’m thinking now that a better question would be, “What don’t you talk about?” Answer: extended, Blackberry’d arguments about who scored the winning goal in a hockey game 12 years ago.
And: last excitement of Friday. We were on the train, and this kind of hippieish homeless guy was playing “Midnight Toker.” (You know, “I’m a drinker, I’m a smoker, I’m a midnight toker…”) So he finishes, and is walking through asking for money, and before I know what’s happening, he and the guys I was with were yelling obscenities at each other.
HHG (Homeless Hippie Guy–although he apparently hasn’t accepted that peace and love thing completely): Hey, you suck!
Friend 1: Fuck you!
HHG: No, fuck you!
Friend 2: Whoa…
HHG: I FUCKING OWN THIS TRAIN. I WILL BASH MY GUITAR OVER YOUR HEAD.
F1: Then you wouldn’t own the train.
F2: Yeah, without your guitar, you can’t own it.
Clearly, they did an excellent job of diffusing the situation. Luckily, HHG got off at the next stop. And what set this off? That Friend 3–who was completely unaware this whole time, letting the other guys defend his honor, while having no idea that it was his honor being defended–was on his iPhone, instead of listening to the performance. So: either HHG was high/crazy, or he really, really hates materialism and the bourgeois tools of society, like iPhones.
That was a convoluted story. But while we’re on the topic of confusion:
Kevin Richardson–Backstreet Boy or Lion Whisperer? (Or both?)
Doesn’t it look like we maybe caught them in the midst of a private moment?
Tags: adventures, City, family, food, LionCest, sports, travel, whoa
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