I’m on hold.  Time Warner Cable is about to get a piece of my action… my mouth anyway.  I pay $137 and change per month for my cable (five premium channels… there are only six if you include skinimax), and Road Runner service.  And my direct tv hasn’t ever worked.  What is that about?  So I’m drunk, and now I’m pissed because I can’t fall asleep to some old Sex & The City episodes.  Instead, the DVD player is loaded with Albert Brookes’ The Muse.  Men would say it’s Sharon Stone’s The Muse, but I’ve got tits and a sense of humor.  Albert Brookes has the best delivery… I never stop laughing.  He’s funny as shite, my friend. 

Clearly, I shouldn’t throw stones.  I’m the technotard.  All I had to do was switch the VOD (video on demand) switch on.  If only life were as simple as hitting a switch.

Tonight I met a man with a van who was 20 minutes late meeting me.  We’d never met, so it was tragically blind.  And a late blind date leaves you a touch vulnerable, wondering if he got a glimpse of you and left.  So I fingered the rim of my wine glass and smiled at the female bartenders wearing pigtails. 

When he arrived, in a puffy Polo jacket, he looked flustered, and quite adorable.  He was all dimples and a full head of hair.  "I’m sorry, I’m having problems with the van."  Oh right, the van.  Wink wink.  I dunno.  "Yeah, I left a message with Dan, the guy who sold it to me, but who knows.  So the battery will die soon.  But I want you to come outside so you know I’m not making it up."

"Wait, you’re a late man with a van, and you’re waiting for a Dan?  And you think I won’t buy it?  Please, who could make that up?"  So I spank the bottom of my wine glass and swivel off the stool.  We walk outside, and I joke that I’ll have the magic touch.  "Oh I’ll fix your van."  Who the fcuk am I?

I get on my knees and ask about a valet switch.  No really, who the fcuk am I?  He whips out a manual.  The name of his band is painted along the perimeters of the van.  It’s a Ford, not a VW, as I’d imagined it to be.  "Give me your keys."  Then I do what anyone trying would do:  I open all the doors, close them again, try all the locks, and then.  Voila.  Redhead to the rescue.  I willed it so, and it happened, as if I flipped a switch.  I fixed the man’s van, baby.  We hugged in the cold, thankful we could now go enjoy adult beverages. 

I hear The Counting Crows sing Anna Begins, and I’m already hopeful.  I love that song, and when things like that happen, you’re hopeful.  It’s a sign, you tell yourself, and then smile.  You loosen up and wonder where this will all go.  And then everything seems to fall into place.  A cover band plays John Mayer.  You’re so done; you feel it.  Even in that moment, you have a feeling you’ll need to remember this.  You feel like something is starting, even though everything is light and fun.  His eyes are potent.  It’s delicious, better, even, than my video on demand; it’s life on demand.