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Marie and I have been in each other’s presence for approximately 20 minutes. We’re in a bar downtown. Her workday has just ended.
“Check out what’s inside,” she says. “My co-worker Elizabeth hooked me up.”
She hands me a cigarette case and inside is a bag of green stuff. Great. I start laughing. “Great.”
We almost have a chance to catch up before getting drunk. I see in that window the Marie I know and love. A girl who is among other things, smart and funny.
She discusses her job as well as goals of the unrealized variety.
After some discourse she asks me, “What do you think is my biggest problem, Ian?”
I extend my index finger and point to the beer sitting in front of her.
“Yeah. But you drink,” she says.
“I do. But there are some differences.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.”
“Hm. Ok. Well, do you want to not drink tomorrow?”
Fuck. I’m feeling a buzz and totally want to drink tomorrow.
“Alright, sure. Let’s do it. Let’s not drink. I swear, I like being sober more than being drunk.”
Marie smiles. “Ok then. Tomorrow let’s not get drunk and also I’ll clean my apartment.”
“Sounds good.”
But tomorrow is tomorrow.
Later that same night I don’t remember going to Marie’s apartment but suddenly we are on the futon smoking a joint.
“Do you feel anything?” I ask.
“No. You?”
“No, this weed sucks.”
But then suddenly I feel something, at which point I realize two things. One is that Conan Obrian’s stand-up segment is truly not funny since I don’t laugh at it even though I’m high. The other is that Nickelback is definitively a shitty band since their music doesn’t sound good even when I’m high.
We walk to the store for some reason. Then we walk to a bar and drink more beer. Then we walk back to the store.
“Are you high at all?” I ask her. The world is a choppy movie.
“Fuck yeah!” says Marie, then she starts laughing.
“What?”
“Check this out, the ‘Pleasure Pack.’” She holds a very appropriately titled box of assorted Trojan Condoms.
“Ha ha. Great. Yes definitely, let’s get it.”
We walk around with the pleasure pack. It feels good and we haven’t even opened it yet.
In the beer section Marie points out a “Bayern” mini-keg. “Well here we go. This keg is the perfect thing to go along with the pleasure pack,” she says.
Perfect indeed. I hoist the keg on to my shoulder. Marie grabs two paper cups because “I don’t have any other clean ones at my apartment.”
In the check-stand line with Marie I start yelling. “We got the Pleasure Pack. We got the Bayern mini-keg. And we got two paper cups! I hope you’re ready for a good time, baby!” Or something like that. The people in QFC that hear us pretend like they don’t.
Back at the apartment the signal starts to drop. And it becomes apparent that of the two of us I’m more familiar with the specific assortment within the pleasure pack. And that’s either comforting or disturbing depending on how I look at it. But soon the room fades to black and I don’t see anything at all.
3 responses so far ↓
1 Ross // Dec 1, 2008 at 7:36 pm
I really don’t know what to say here. I’m usually not at a loss for words, after drinking coffee and having nothing to do but fart around and read your blog… I think actually seeing the pictures of this just makes it seem… more intense — again… I just don’t know what to say.
Never-the-less… awesome!
2 thebaglady // Dec 2, 2008 at 5:19 pm
So i’m guessing marie’s still an alcoholic. that’s nice i guess. The minikeg looks pretty cute..haha
3 Ian Ian Ian // Dec 10, 2008 at 10:05 am
Ross - Haha, thanks.
thebaglady - Of course she’s still an alcoholic. That’s like saying “I guess thebaglady is still Chinese.” It’s a genetic predisposition.
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