illusive meeting

Tonight I’m going out with the illusive IJC and MT for some BYOB… clearly no photos to follow.  Stories, however, hope to prove plentiful and posted here once I’m drunk.

I’m not drunk but on Linus duty.  It’s much easier to be a proper alcoholic when you’re married.  Then there’s someone home to walk and love the dog for you while you’re out loving to love your company.  Which I was.  The only caveat tonight: I have nothing juicy to report other than I WAS STOOD UP.  Go ahead.  "Good the bitch deserves it… finally someone brought her down to reality."  I’m not stopping you… insert stupid chuckle *here.*  Besides who chuckles anyway besides an entertainment mouse handing out pizza at a kid party? 

As I fingered the rim of my Cabernet glass I tried to recall a time when I’ve been stood up previously.  Not in a, "wow, I’m better than any fcuking guy" kind of how could he stand me up kind of way.  More like a, "gee, I guess I really am fat so he took one look and headed for the door" kind of way.  Thankfully it has only happened once before, while I was with pappoo in Florida, after the purchase of my first pair of thigh high stockings… but I digress.

MT didn’t show.  Thankfully, I had Chris in clutch.  After pork sandwiches to celebrate my final night of Hanukkah (or however the hell it is spelled), we sauntered across the street to meet the illusives. 

The IJC, who has previously marked me as a black kettle, arrived on time and approached in a long coat.  I was happy he noticed me from one of my hundreds of online self-promotional photos, as his face was a mystery to me.  I’d only known him through his bashing of Interchangeable Jewish Chicks, and our limited comment correspondence.  He was decidedly charming and surprising.  But I’m a lady… so I can’t divulge too much. I would never "talk" (unless a blowjob and interesting blog entry were involved).  After all, MT set up our little meeting and didn’t show, very Jewish meddling mother.  I was expecting candlelight and U2 songs.

I bought Chris and the IJC some beers as we waited for MT’s arrival.  The boys spoke of big titty erasers (how naturally large breasts can erase all bad behavior) and fringed Burberry scarf fetishes.  Sometimes, despite myself, and the beer, I’m too much of a guy; I let it all hang out.  "She’s so your type," I assess as I point to a pink Burberry fringed girl with a pink face and personality who has just interjected, "I’ve just matriculated from Columbia."  "As a nurse" came later.  "Matriculated" was invented by the drunk redhead who is now typing.

"I should take you out more often.  You’ll save me a lot of time."  The IJC concurred.  I was quite right.  He’s into pink fringe, straight hair, and your basic Murray Hill nightmare.  But hey, I’m as pathologic as the next guy… and as we’ve established, my kettle is black. Love.  Hate.  Love.  Hate.

Meanwhile, Chris is ready to let his balls loose at the nurse table beside us, so I’m ready to pack it in for the night when the IJC counters with, "Yeah, and you could never date him because you always need to be the center of attention."  Okay, clearly I’m not the only one with the money calls. He is dead on balls accurate.  Thank you Marisa, despite your token Oscar.  Time for my exit.  Linus needs me.  Kiss.  Kiss. Jackets.  Swig of water.

On our way out, I spot MT cell phoning it in the vestibule.  "Ahem, you so aren’t just showing up now."

"Oh, no, I’ve been here a while.  I was on the phone." 

"But didn’t you see us?"


Well, alrightythen.  I left the boys alone and opted for the man in my life, Linus, who now, as I write this, is beaning in my lap, licking my leg with his sandpaper pink tongue.  And all across our fine city, pink scarved women with pink tongues and pink personalities are doing the same.  But we’ll have to check in with the boys to see if they verify the story come the AM.









  1. BYOB can have so many meanings today…

    Bring Your Own Beverage (for those who don't drink)

    Bring Your Own Booze (fot those of us that like to partake)

    Bring Your Own Badass (for moments that require someone to smear shit on someone's car…sorry Lea but it fits and it is still funny)

    Bring Your Own Blog

    Bring Your Own Bat (to fight off the trolls)

    Bring Your Own Balls (for a certain someone to grab)

    Ok…enough with me trying to be funny. Enjoy tonight and I am looking forward to the next post.

  2. eeek… Stephanie, tell MT that I've been dying to go drinking with him. Ever since he posted that Survival Guide to Holiday parties last year, he's been my hero. I think he may be the first guy who can outdrink me.

    Nah, I doubt it.

    Anyway, have a few for me.

  3. I'm curious to know why this comment format is better. Everyone says 'I like the old comments format' but it doesn't encourage discussion since you can only comment on the post thats posted, it lets people hijack the comments since once the thread goes off topic there is no way to go back, people know when they're own posts are deleted causing them to repost or post messages about 'why are my posts deleted' and finally no one knows if the post by 'Stephanie Klein' is really her or not. I'm looking for concrete reasons, not 'because i liked it better'.

    In addition, it gave all the whiners something to whine about (silently to themselves since they never knew their posts were deleted).

  4. Aw, you get to meet the mysterious ijc…

    I liked living in Murray Hill…sadly, I couldn't afford it for longer than a month.

    Gotta love those Craigslist sublets..

  5. YAY !! old comments. i couldnt figure out how to use the NEW comment thing. MAYBE that was the intent ! haha. hope you had fun with the other bloggers !

  6. Wait, you lost me. were you supposed to meet a guy, and it turned out that he was in fact in the bar, saw you and your "crew", but never came over to meet with you?

  7. MT didn't show up until the end… and I know I'm not fat. But I could stand to lose 10 pounds for my Florida bikini season which is quickly approaching.

  8. I was a part of this last night and I find this post confusing. Then again, maybe I'm still drunk.

    If I still had an active website there are a few things that I would probably write:
    1. the jury is still out on whether or not stephanie is an ijc or not. she claimed that the size of a engagement ring would not be important to her, but then said she would not accept one that chris offered to make by hand. hmmm.
    – i've seen all her pictures, but was still unsure what i might find. however, if i may say so, stephanie looks quite fetching with straight hair.
    – stephanie picked the "classic murray hill nightmare" that i make the mistake of falling for again and again out of a group of six chicks within the first five seconds they sat down. absolutely amazing.
    – supposedly jewish girls have a reputation for swallowing. never heard that before.
    – i'm can't pinpoint why she left so hastily. was it my "center of attention comment", the fact that i told her that at 28 i've never ever been in a real relationship, or is it possible that she actually does have a dog?
    – the MT's reputation as a drinker and carouser preceeded him and the ijc was not disappointed. the two of us are discussing a follow up…round two if you will…for early 2005.

  9. i am a bit confused as well. Can you confirm that the person that apparently "stood you up" was actually there, just on his mobile?

    Does this mean you forgive him?

    Geez, I'm addicted to this site. It's like waiting for next weeks Apprentice II to be aired… however, it's like that daily! And to top it off, I wake up and have a quick search for a new post and I am SIX HOURS AHEAD time zone-wise. Of course you are not writing at 3 am NY time. Good Grief.

  10. It's a fair cop, every single bit of it. I was waiting in the heated entryway, talking to a dodgy lower east side friend from my childhood about even dodgier business dealings. You all looked like you were having a great time, so I figured you'd get on without me.

    Hadn't counted on the Linus factor pulling you away so early. IJC and I stayed until the wee hours trading stories of a city gone mad. I did my best to rile him up on the topic of his namesake.

    Everyone should always understand that when I say I'll be somewhere at a certain time, I'm certainly going to be wrong about half of that: either I'll be somewhere else or I'll be there at a different, later time. That's why I am a Man to Avoid.

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