Tonight my leg hurt again. I danced my ass off to Fenbi twice last week, and my poor leg couldn’t handle all of the joy. So I was using the crutch, which always makes me feel sorry for myself.
It didn’t last long though, when I got inside, I saw Matt, the most delectible of all of the Kelly’s Bartenders (as you can see!). “I got one of your cards!” He exclaimed, which in and of iteself is odd, because I bribe bartenders with my cards. Everytime I go into a bar and sell my Snarky Cards, every bartender gets a card. It keeps things friendly, as bribing generally does. So, if you’re a bartender, you’ll never have to pay for your Snarky Card Habit. And you’ll probably supply all of your friends with their Snarky Cards.
“What happened?” I was atwitter. He grinned. “I loaned my friend, my bike. He just went around the block, but somehow he ended up getting a flat tire…?” He looked confused. And seriously, how does someone get a flat going around the block anyway?
“The next day he came back and gave me the ‘I’m sorry I murdered your bike’ card!” Matt was stoked. I grinned. “I’m so glad that you got one of my cards back! That’s awesome!” I left Kelly’s feeling triumphant and wanted.
Afterwards, I made my rounds, and met Bret, another cute boy who was excited about meeting me. “Ohmygod! I love your cards!” He squealed like a pre-teen at a Jonas Brothers Show. “A while ago, I went to get my knives sharpened at Hawthorne Cutlery and there were these cards at the counter. The first one I saw was Fuck you and your fucking feelings! It was so perfect!” I tried for a demure smile. “I’m so glad you like them!” His eyes lit up. “It was perfect! I put it up on my fridge. I’d just broken up with my ex-girlfriend, and it made me totally chill about the break-up!”
Other people have told me Hawthorne Cutlery stories. It’s a knife and sword shop, so in and of itself, it makes an impression. But it’s also weird that they carry my cards. They don’t fit in with the rest of the store, so they make an impression. The owner, Dave, has a sick sense of humor too (or that’s what he always tells me, anyway. I don’t think my sense of humor is sick, but he seems to like saying that a lot) and makes his own (dirty) cards and t-shirts on the side. He’s a fun guy to talk to. He always has a crazy story in his pocket.
So, tonight I heard stories about how relevant I am. And it made me feel good. It was just the little uplift I needed after those shitty voicemails that boy I used to date left on my machine yesterday. Thanks, universe, for giving me gorgeous boys, and making them say nice things to me.