Tales of Wit and Charm…

I had the craziest dream last night. I blame the piece of chocolate cake I had right before bed. I was at some random hotel in Amsterdam. Why Amsterdam? Probably because that’s where some of my weirdest blog comments have been coming from lately. The Yuppie and Marky were also staying in this hotel.

For some reason my front tooth fell out. Yuppie wouldn’t take me to the dentist because we were in a foreign country and he’d never read a biography on the dental work there. If you knew him you’d know that part could totally be true. I found Marky and begged him to take me to a dentist but he kept telling me to go back to bed so he could put money under my pillow. In this dream he was really into Euros, disturbingly so. I tried calling Rlo multiple times but just like in real life he wouldn’t answer his phone. Jerk.

I got mad at both of them and tried to walk home. Obviously that didn’t work and I ended up in a library, where I checked out multiple books on dental work. When I got back to the hotel and gave the books to The Yuppie he looked at me and said, “Sarah you know I’m very anti-TV and your tooth falling out is a direct result of your reality television habits. So I suggest either calling one of your TV friends for help, or just going toothless and become one with your inner NASCAR self.”

I woke up super pissed at The Yuppie and my subconscious. If I’m going to be in Amsterdam you’d think I’d at least make my way into a hash café, but oh nooooo.

me: Is it possible to feel too fat for the gym?

marky: I’m right there with ya. I feel more like doing whatever is opposite of the gym. Which, I guess, is what I am doing right now.

My friend Marky has a secret life. He has an entire friend network I’ve never met. For the longest time I just assumed they were all made up, and served as an excuse why he couldn’t accompany me on errands. Then I met one of his imaginary friends, and it turns out he’s indeed a real person with a name and everything! But, of course, I instantly forgot his name, so when I see him around town I never say hello. Which isn’t a big deal because I’m positive he hates me. There’s no other explanation for his odd behavior.

It started at Cafe Niche when I was having brunch with my girlfriends. Non-imaginary friend sat down at the table next to us, drank a little coffee and then bolted to a table across the room. Recognizing him as one of Marky’s friends I tried my best to keep the offensive brunch conversation to a minimum by not saying vagina over and over, so I knew that wasn’t the reason for his move.

I noticed him again at one of my favorite lunch spots and he did his best to avoid any contact with me. Over the course of a month there’s been quite a few run-ins, without any acknowledgment on either of our parts.

I can’t help but wonder what Marky is telling his friends to make them hate me so. Is it that I made him leave the U game early to take me to the library? Or is it because I doubted their existence to begin with?

Do you have a justification dance? I do. It’s cute and geeky all at the same time. And today I had the opportunity to share it with everyone in the parking lot of Blockbuster.

I went with Marky to pick up some crack cocaine, or Deadwood, whatever. Do not deny this boy his smack. He gets moody! As we were checking out Marky was lingering near the treats. I kindly reminded him we were stopping at Maverick for drinks and Sunchips. The cashier got excited, which is not normal. (The Hollywood Video near my house employs zombie kids. I’m sure they are just hungover and puffy from the previous night, but I’m sticking with the zombie story.) The cashier and I, we bonded over cinamon flavored Sunchips. I discovered them at a truck stop in Evanston and have been in love ever since. Seriously, churros in a bag. It’s a beautiful thing.

As usual Marky has been forced to accept my obsessions. Meaning he’s driven me to countless gas stations on the hunt for them. Sadly, they’re not so easy to find. I was so excited that someone else was just as addicted. Suddenly I felt normal. Of course only for a brief second, because that’s when the parking lot of people saw me dancing around with my fist in the air–ala Rocky Balboa.

I started going grocery shopping with Marky. For two reasons: 1) He always drives, and 2) I don’t have to talk to people, therefore keeping the name calling to a minimum.

So yesterday when the following conversation took place: