2003-08-26

When good models go bad... part the third...

When we last left off, Krazy K and I had decided to go to the party that Drummer Boy inexplicably invited us to and I was becoming increasingly paranoid that my "lesbian vibes" were pushing away any man who might possibly want to nail me. (on that note- I asked my dad and my brother about this issue. My dad yelled that I should "call my stepmom or my sister about this shit! Jesus, April! How the hell should I know?" My brother didn't prove much more helpful. He informed me that the fault lay with a red bandanna he'd seen me wearing over my Vacation Courtesy of the Big Lie.)

Anyway, upon arriving at the party place, a sour-looking girl informs us the party's "a little full... Like, you know, I don't even know you and you're like coming to my like house." Krazy K told her we were "with [Drummer Boy]." She gave us a withering look and stalked back inside. I pulled Krazy K aside and told her I was feeling a little unwelcome and wanted to leave. Krazy K, still drowning in unrequited whatever the hell it was for Drummer Boy begged me to wait for him to arrive.

Cut to a half-hour later. He has not arrived. I half drag Krazy K back to the car and we're homeward bound. She is upset about having no closure on Drummer Boy. So I tell her to call him at some point and tell him about whatever the hell it is she seems to feel about him. She says she just can't and I should call him and tell him she likes him- you know, like more than a friend. I say no. She says please- only eighty-six times. I inform her she's twelve. She doesn't care that she's twelve. Blah, blah, blah. Finally, I say she can call him and I can feed her a la Cyrano de Bergerac. So she calls him as I drive, me feeding her lines out of the side of my mouth.

Here's what I fed her:

"Hi [Drummer Boy]. It's [Krazy K]. Sorry I didn't get to see you at the party. I had to go home and get some sleep. Anyway, call me later. I was hoping we could get together more..."

Everything was fine up until this point. Then Krazy decided to fly solo. It went something like this:

"...hoping we could get together more... but obviously you were more into all those other girls you were talking to, so whatever. I don't even care. If you don't want to talk to me, I don't care."

I gave her frantic kill gestures this whole time, but she wasn't seeing them. Finally, I said, "End it! END IT!" She ended it with a "Whatever. I guess I'll see you around." I almost ran off the road. We talked. It went something like this:

"Why the hell did you say that shit, [Krazy K]?!"

"I don't know!!!"

"I mean, it's like you're accusing him or something! And it's not like you even talked to him!"

"I know!! I feel bad enough already!"

"Hee! That was like that phone call in Swingers."

"It's not funny!"

"It kind of is."

Then we laughed a bit. I comforted Krazy K, telling her she didn't need to see Girlfriend-Cheater Drummer Boy ever again. She said sadly, "I just really, really wanted to fuck him." I told her he was too skinny and would probably look terrible unclothed. She disagreed. I told her it was moot, anyway. After that phone call, she could write Drummer Boy off. She tearfully agreed and we rode to Von's in search of comfort food. It was then that we saw it... Her phone had been on for our entire post-message conversation! Needless to say, Krazy K felt even worse. I was a little embarrassed myself. We went back to her place, solemnly picked at our junk food, then I drove home.

And so ends the Night That Convinced Me That Nothing Good Ever Comes From a Night on the Town in LA. I've had better nights in OC- and that's saying something. Krazy K has apologized up and down for this night. I, of course, forgive her strange behavior. I mean, no matter how bad the night was for me, it was a billion times worse for her.