Great Scott

Story Sent in by Scott:

Janie showed up a half-hour late and already drunk. I couldn't believe she had driven over, in her state. But she had.

She gave me a sloppy hug then asked me, "What're we doing tonight?"

"Dinner. Maybe."

She paused in thought for far too long then asked, "What're we doing tonight?"

"Dinner. I think," I replied.

She looked up at a point in the sky and pointed. I looked where she was pointing and saw nothing. She said, "Then dinner it shall be!"

I asked, "Are you okay?"

After another several moments of deep thought, she said, "Yes!"

I was afraid that she'd make a loud, obnoxious fool of herself at dinner. Instead, she nodded off into her pasta. At one point she looked up at me and asked, "What're you up to?"

I said, "Having dinner. What are you up to?"

She replied, "Plotting."

"Plotting what?"

"To assassinate the last king of Scotland... WAIT!" she practically yelled.

"What? What?" I asked, expecting who-knows-what in response.

She laughed herself silly and said, "Oh my God. Your name is Scott..."


She pointed at me with the same finger she had previously used to point at sky-nothing and said, "GO BACK TO SCOTT-LAND!"

She leaned forward at that time and laughed again. Her hair grazed at her pasta sauce, but she didn't seem to care. I then excused myself to "go to the bathroom," but actually went to call her a taxi home. Granted, I didn't have her address, but I figured we'd cross that drunken bridge when we made it there.

When I made it back to the table, though, she was gone. Wandered off somewhere. Never saw her again. But I did pack up her mostly untouched dinner for myself. Even if it had touched her hair, we still need to eat back in Scott-land.


  1. What we have here is a classic disagreement with reality. But at least no real harm came to your date.

  2. Arch-as far as we know. She might have wandered off and walked into the path of a bus.

  3. Now, Archie, who are we to question her dedication to the cause? (Here's a full album if you want more)

    Easy sarcastic stance aside, this is an ongoing rant I have IRL about drinking problems* -- as a child of the 80's I find it weird that we seem post-"Sex and the City" to essentially believe that drinking really excessively is cultured or sexy or even ho-hum quotidian life. Your basic suburbanite drinks and swaps prescription bills more than any frat featured in Animal House or Revenge of the Nerds, and somehow the only substance we all treat as dangerous is meth. I mean, I say this as a a drinker and a toker, not some straight-edger. But it's really bizarre.

    *(Over Macho Grande? I don't think I'll ever be over Macho Grande)

  4. ^ I was wondering how long into that rant I'd see an AIRPLANE! reference. :)


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