The familiar taste of Corn Flakes

Last night I met up with Bill and Marcus at Caseys. I had plans to hang out with a girl, but she canceled at the last minute because she said she had to help her mom prepare everything for thanksgiving….so of course you had to know that I would run into her at the bar. Ah well it’s cool, that’s just life in the big city. I used to have all these high standards, detailed qualifiers and prerequisites for hanging out with females: Can she hold a conversation? Will she text the whole time while we’re watching a movie, Does she have pretty feet? but these days just a willingness to show up for a platonic pre-planned outing would probably suffice. Anyhow, it was packed, but we got bored quickly, and Marcus is a ‘grass is greener’ kind of guy so we ended up going to Bar Smith downtown. It was kind of a ghetto night though…all sorts of dumb riff raffy hip hop types. As has become the usual at these dance nights I didn’t recognize a single song, and I’m not sure I even know what the style of music is called. Call it Dubstep if you want. It all sounds the same to me. Just seems like everyone wants to invent their own genre of music so they find some subtle way to differentiate it from other similar(mainly with the terminology as opposed to the actual music.) This way they can have a wikipedia entry dedicated to the style of music they’ve “invented.” It reminds of one of those astronomy deals where you pay to have a star named after you….Chillwave, Electroclash, Dubstep, Trip Hop etc. The idea is mainly to give your genre a cool and catchy title. This falls in the “Stuff White People Like” category. It makes you seem cooler if you like a new style that other people don’t know about, yet. If you actually coin one of these hipster terms, you will enjoy hipster demigod status for time…until it either becomes mainstream at which point you will be hated as part of an inevitable backlash or until it just fizzles out and then you will just be forgotten…memorable only when older hipster dudes wax nostalgic how whatever era they were hanging out in their prime in was great and how everything just sucks now(think Bear from the 1979 surf movie “Big Wednesday”) as they’re trying to hit on some nubile young girls who were born with Ipods, cellphones and other electronic paraphernalia wired to their body.

Moving on…I briefly made out with a Mexican chick on the dance floor…which I think marks the first time I have ever made out with a hispanic girl of any kind. Not that I have never been attracted to one, but for whatever reason I’ve just never found one that I had any sort of chemistry with(including this one I was just drunk, and she may have been even drunker.) Anyhow she was trying to get some douchy gangster dude to dance with her, and he didn’t want to. He was like too lame or something. So I was like “Whatever I’ll dance with her,” and he didn’t seem to care so she grabbed my hand and off we went. We tore up the dance floor, like Saturday Night Fever(wednesday night edition) and I used all my sleaziest moves(yeah that one where I grind up on the girl with my ass and then pick her up with my arms behind my back. Anyway, she’s all “Damn you’ve got some moves. You’re pretty good. For a white boy I’m impressed!” I’m sure it didn’t look so well choreographed to those gazing at us from afar, just a couple of drunken uncoordinated skeezes hopping around and feeling each other up, occasionally to the beat of the music. Her friends were not liking me at all in fact. One of them said something to her like “I ‘m going to tell Corn Flakes what you’re doing” which I imagined was some sort of nickname given for the girl’s boyfriend figure. Abruptly the girl pulled me aside and led me downstairs where we were about to have a heavy makeout session when out of nowhere one of her friends,a Margaret Cho looking asian girl swooped in and whisked her away presumably trying to prevent me from “taking full advantage” of the opportunities presented by this nice young lady.

Somehow I made it home without getting a DUI. If only my lucky streak of avoiding DUIs would bleed over to my romantic life I could be in business. Oh I know what you’re thinking…you’re hoping I crash and bleed all over the interstate for talking in such cavalier un-pc language about drinking and driving. However, let me assure you that I don’t ever get THAT drunk to where I could potentially hurt someone else. With the creeping of our draconian laws though, the legal limit has become so low that just swishing around some mouthwash and having a glass of wine or two earns you a ticket to tent city and mandatory attachment of a breathalyzer to your vehicle. No thanks!