Yesterday started off like a day similar to any other. My good ole buddy *PunkSmashRoyale* who is from N.E.W. Jerzzz, was going to be in Flushing for a Mets game with a friend and asked me if I wanted to hang out afterwards. I don’t see this guy very often, and he is very loveable, so I agreed. Also, my good ole buddy *Platypuss* and I had been texting and she mentioned how she was having dinner with her mom (who I guess we shall call *SmileyWileyWina*) and her brother (the infamous *Homiecakes*). She asked me if I had ever been to Minado’s and about its selection of consumables, and I promptly answered her to my utmost ability. After a while, the conversation extended itself to other topics, but as dinner time drew near, I wished *Platypuss* a happy dining experience as part of the trio. She thanked me for my well wishes, but I still felt a little empty inside. After all our talk about restaurant choice(s) and food selection(s), I wanted to know what her ultimate decision was in the end. The following is the verbatim exchange between us:
“You gonna tell me where you are eating? Lol”
“Ohhhh haha didnt know u wanted to know. Divino ristorante. You want to come or something” - (Obviously a joke)
“Yeah, can I?” - (Obviously a joke calling of her bluff)
“Lol really? K dinner resys at 630,but I think everyone's going to be a little late. Just make it there before 7 so we can do the prefixe” - (…)
Never one to back down from a challenge in relation to edible food, I called her bluff. Your funeral, *Platypuss*, your funeral. I will admit that I had some qualms of guilt. It is not often that *Platypuss*, *Homiecakes* (also known as BIGBOI), and *SmileyWileyWina* can sit down and have a nice dinner together as a family. But if you know me, and I know you don't, I love to (whether I like it or not) throw myself into awkward situations, and seeing as how I had never met *SmileyWileyWina* before, this was the most perfect awkward situation ever. Ruining a lovely heartwarming family dinner; what I do best.
At an opportune moment when the professor called a break for our class, I bum-rushed out of there, and everyone was none the wiser. I took the train and ran to the restaurant in time to make it before 7pm, but at the cost of my personal hygiene. I was sweating profusely by the time I shook *SmileyWileyWina*’s hand. The dinner that followed was the most upturned-corners-of-mouth dinner conversation that ever took place or will ever take place. It would be impossible for me to coherently go through the entire dinner in a logical and cohesive fashion, so I will just throw out random bits of what I remember about it:
*Platypuss* threw me under the bus right away without wasting any time. She told her mother that I was cutting class, completely destroying any good impression I could have made. I salvaged whatever I could of the situation by saying “I don’t get to see *Platypuss* and *Homiecakes* too often, and this is my last course of school, so I decided it was worth the sacrifice to see my two good friends” and gave a big smile.
I was worried that my shirt would be inappropriate for the restaurant, but I was allowed in despite my jackass demeanor. My shirt was of a sprinkle hose (a hose that emits sprinkles) emitting sprinkles into the summer air as an ice cream cone and donut were frolicking in happiness. *SmileyWileyWina* seemed to like my shirt and as I returned from the restroom, she mentioned that it was cute. Me, being the jackass that I am (probably the most commonly used phrase on this blog), said “Yeah, I am kinda cute!” and she, with the sternest face, immediately said “No, I was talking about the shirt.”
While we were eating our entrees, I was giving some of my food to my fellow tablemates. As I was giving some of my salmon to *SmileyWileyWina*, I asked her “Do you want some more fish?” (because she had ordered a different fish dish herself). Apparently, according to *Platypuss*, I had actually said “Do you want some more fish, mom?” and she totally called me out on it.
That was pretty awkward. However, *SmileyWileyWina* is a lot like me in that she wants/wanted/likes a lot of kids (of her own I’m guessing?) so she said it was okay if I called her mom. I gave her a look and said “Uhhh… That’s okay!” and laughed. We then talked about children and how I wanted at least four, preferably five. We also talked about how my mother was a lot like her, in that they both like to give fruit to their children.
Later on she asked me if I like fish, and I said I do, and she said she does too. I said “We have a lot in common you and I, we both like fish… and you don’t like wine, and… I like wine in moderation.” I had to stop there because unfortunately I forgot about our desire to have more children and motherly instincts.
I mentioned how I was going to be in Flushing later and *SmileyWileyWina* told me not to hang out too late because it is very dangerous at night in Flushing. Apparently there are Mexican and Hispanic gangs with weapons such as guns. I then proceeded to tell her, “I have guns too,” and then further proceeded to bring my arms into plain view and slightly flexed while looking at them. Yeah, that did not go over too well.
She said "Their guns will win over your guns" and proceeded to mimic a gun shooting into a bicep. Ouch, that hurt my pride more than it hurt my figurative bicep.
*Platypuss* wanted to throw me under the bus again by telling her mother how I shit my pants at work. I asked *Platypuss* if she was going to tell HER shit story too (not that she has one, *cough*), which apparently refrained *Platypuss* from telling her my story. I had no problem with my story being told; I was just wary of the fact that we were in a restaurant about to eat and shit probably wasn’t a good topic to talk about. However, I did encourage *Platypuss* to tell my story by telling *SmileyWileyWina* in my retarded robot Mandarin, that *Platypuss* had a story to tell. Didn’t happen, unfortunately.
I mentioned to *SmileyWileyWina* how I had met her youngest son (*Platypuss*’s youngest brother whom we shall call… *AmB*). The first words out of her mouth were “Yeah, he’s kinda slow, right?” and I gave her a very quizzical look. *Platypuss* started laughing uncontrollably and so did her mother. I was a little confused at what was going on but I continued with my story of how *AmB* and I met. It was the last night of Buddhist camp this year and we were right next to each other holding hands as we danced around the bonfire (not as bad as it sounds). *SmileyWileyWina* then tried to save herself from her previous condemning comment of her son by saying she meant he was a slow dancer. This “slow” comment and related comments about slowness actually made up the bulk of our conversation from that point on.
For a while, *SmileyWileyWina* kept on talking Mandarin to me, which I did not understand all too clearly. I tried to use my limited Mandarin at some points, but as I was told, I sounded like a retarded robot.
*SmileyWileyWina* kept on encouraging me to eat, and that I am a BIGBOIIII. This immediately ignited *Homiecakes*'s senses and he said "Yah, you BIGBOIIIIIII." I tried to explain that I am a small boy but it was too late. The yellings of "BIGBOIIIII" totally engulfed any argument I tried to make.
*Platypuss* kept on asking me if I wanted a bottle of wine, and she got to telling me a story about the first and only time her mother drank wine. Apparently it was very weak wine, so *SmileyWileyWina* kept on drinking it like it was juice and finished most of the bottle. She walked over to the sink and promptly collapsed and hit her head on the counter, and from then on she was never going to drink again. We started talking about wine and alcohol and why it is bad and *SmileyWileyWina*, probably sensing that she couldn’t communicate all that well with me, used some weird sign language where her index fingers tapped her temples passionately, followed by a shaking of her head. I gave her the most quizzical look I had ever given anyone, and my eyes shifted to *Platypuss* as if to say “What the fuck did she just say?”
It all made sense just milliseconds later; she was saying that alcohol fucks with your head. It was strange for me because she went from speaking, to passionately using other parts of her body to communicate, and it took time for me to adjust to what was going on, which is why my eyebrows were furrowed questioningly.
*SmileyWileyWina* said that I look very young, even younger than *Platypuss*. She later attributed this to the fact that I look very happy and was always smiling and laughing. I told her “No… I wake up every morning and cry.” Luckily, she didn’t take me seriously. I told her that I live a pretty good life and that “I may not have a lot of money, but I have a lot of heart” as I put my hands over my left chesticle.
Later, *SmileyWileyWina* said that I seemed very dumb and goofy. I was very excited about this, because we had hit a breakthrough. “That is exactly what *Plane Jane* said when she first me!” Now I was drawing closer to the truth; the true first impression that people get when they meet me.
Our conversations were very happy though because I felt bad about ruining her family dinner, so whenever *SmileyWileyWina* looked at me, I would do my best to make things pleasant and smile and she would burst out laughing and turn to *Platypuss* and tell her something embarrassing about me (I imagine).
As the dinner drew to a close and it was time to pay, *SmileyWileyWina* asked *Platypuss* if I came just for a free dinner. I vehemently denied this but in the end, I ended up not paying for anything. I owe *Platypuss* dinner next time, darn. *SmileyWileyWina* asked me if liked the food, and I said “The food was very good, but the company was even better.” Don’t judge me, I was trying to make a good impression!
After dinner, *SmileyWileyWina* dropped *Platypuss* and I off at *Platypuss*’s apartment. Turns out my friend from Jersey and his friend got lost in Penn station and never made it to the Mets game. I was just going to meet them in Times Square to hang out. (*PunkSmashRoyale* had called me to ask me the address of Times Square.) How was I going to get to Times Square you ask? Well, *Platypuss*’s (Oh god, don’t say boyfriend, please don’t say boyfriend or she is going to kill you) ummmm… GUY-friend, was going to come and pick her up to go back to his apartment which is kinda near Times Square, and I was going to hitch a ride with them. No, he did not sound pleased at all.
Let’s call this guy *Leather Tile*. So he’s driving, and he asks me the optimal place to be dropped off, to which I say “42nd and 7th.” “Alright,” he says, “so I’ll drop you off there.” Keep in mind, we’re starting off on the Upper East Side, and somehow we end up on West End Avenue. I ask him “Dude, how did you end up on West End?” to which he replies “I don’t know, I planned on just driving west until I hit 7th avenue… but I never hit it.”
I found this to be ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS and burst out laughing. He wasn’t going to hit 7th avenue because there was no 7th avenue in the area; it was part of Central Park. I immediately tell *Platypuss* that I like this guy. So we end up near the garage and *Leather Tile* says “Do you mind if I just drop you off at 42nd and 9th?” to which I wholeheartedly agree.
*Platypuss*, you have my approval, but coming from me, it probably doesn’t mean much.
I meet up with *PunkSmashRoyale* and his friend *WekeFurest* at Toys’R’Us (*Platypuss* was going to say hi to *PunkSmashRoyale* with me but she ended up not doing that; lame.) and they are HUNGRY. They are from New Jersey and have never heard of Shake Shack, so I take them there and of course I recommend the double shack stack. They each get one and since they are very hungry, both feel that it is one of the best burgers they’ve ever had. SCORE!
We then plan our next move. I had wanted to watch “Winnie the Pooh”, but we decide on whatever movie we can fit in before they have to take the NJ Transit back home. We decide on “Crazy Stupid Love”, which *PunkSmashRoyale* searched for on his phone. I ask him “Which theater?” and he says “The Times Square one!” to which I respond “Which one? There are two!”
We figure out that it is the AMC, and we get to the theater, and… “Crazy Stupid Love” isn’t playing at all. At this point I am a little confused, was *PunkSmashRoyale* actually looking at the list of movies playing at Regal across the street? I confront him about this and he says “Yeah! Let’s go across the street and look!” At this point (and at several other points before in my life) I started to get the feeling that he had no idea what he was talking about, so we started looking on his phone at the listing he was looking at before. Sure enough, the theater he was looking at was AMC, but I noticed it was in Vestal, NY.
Now, I admit that I am semi to severely retarded, but I was pretty sure that we were not in the town of Vestal. I then look at the theater name, and it is in TOWN square, NOT TIMES square. We had a good laugh about this retardedness, and decide to watch “Friends with Benefits.” So there we are at a self-serve kiosk, and *PunkSmashRoyale* tries to pay with a $100 bill. Unfortunately, the machine did not accept $100 bills, or any form of cash in general, so we had to go to the actual counter.
The movie was actually pretty good; much better than I expected. These romantic comedies are usually cliché, but “Friends with Benefits” did the whole cliché routine in what I felt was a refreshingly new way with lots of laughs throughout the film. I recommend it.
It is time for my friends to go home and we arrive at the NJ Transit station. As we are looking at the schedule of departures, we see that the Trenton train (the one they are supposed to be on) is departing at 1:22. “WAIT A MINUTE” says *PunkSmashRoyale*. “WE’RE NOT GOING TO TRENTON!”
“Yeah, but that’s the direction our train is headed to” says *WekeFurest*. “Oh.”
And so as they set off to hell, I rode off into the sunrise.
