I repeat, why must my life be this way?
I just got home from one of the worst dates EVER. Let me repeat that, E-V-E-R.
This guy was like a bad version of Viggo Mortensen morphed with dude off the cover of MADD comics. I swear.
Not only was it Valentine's Day, but the guy hosted a "party" at his grandmother's penthouse on Fifth Avenue. Now erase whatever image you have in your head of this place, and picture this: In the mid-1970s a freak time warp causes a Florida retirement community to puke on top of a NYC apartment complex.
The old woman is sick and in assisted living right now, but her SMELL is very much still at home. Throwing a party at your grandmother's house when she's dying is soooooo uncool. It's wrong on so many levels.
Back to the ambience. I don't know what the hell this guy was thinking, but here's what I was thinking:
I never knew that Sherwin Williams ever produced that quantity of peach-colored indoor paint, or that green Astroturf could be glued directly to the floor of a Manhattan penthouse.
Remember wicker? Scratch that. Remember wicker chairs with cushions covered in palm trees?
And here's a question for Jeopardy: How many plastic plants can be crammed into a NY apartment before becoming a fire hazard? (If plastic plants are petrified, have they become flame retardent?)
My pity party and I are going to bed now. Maybe I'll see you in my dreams.
Posted by Amanda at February 15, 2004 01:25 AM
