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The First Rule of Bowling Is, You Do Not Talk About Bowling

by cari | February, 2008

A few weeks ago, I was tempted to physically assault someone. Not a long, over-involved pummeling kind of impulse, but more of a “punch person’s face a few times” impulse. Specifically, I was struck with the powerful urge to accidentally lose my grip on my bowling bowl so that it tragically intersected with this one girl’s face (uh, interfaced with her face?).

In my defense, it had just not been a good day for me. I’d gotten very little sleep the night before and a good friend at work had decided he wasn’t speaking to me anymore. I am exhausted and upset and yes, a little on edge.

I’ve only been in one “fight” in my life and that was a sort of kicking skirmish with Sabine Stahl in the fifth grade. But in this instance, for a nanosecond, I had the thought that this was going to be the night. My first fight was going to be with a 21 year-old wanna-be fashion model from Utica, NY. She was taller than me, but I have a good 40-50 pounds on her and I was uber-pissed.

On the night in question, I go over to Chris’ and Marko is there. We watch an episode of Knight Rider on NetFlix, after which they are heading over to meet James at the bowling alley in Brooklyn. I tell Chris I’m too tired and unhappy and I am just going to go home, but he won’t hear of it. “It will cheer you up!”, he says, “We’ll bowl and drink beer.” How could I refuse in the face of such unassailable logic?

The first game is a lot of fun. Marko and Chris are a thousand times better at bowling than I am, but I am improving thanks to bowling on my mom’s Wii over Christmas. Then James and his lady friend show up. Yes, sirree. Her name is…let’s call her Sassy Pants. We first become aware of James and Sassy Pants when she begins shrilly yelling at Chris to bowl it into the gutter and what a piece of shit bowler he is.

Chris and Marko had on a previous occasion played pool with Sassy Pants. Chris and Marko are photographers, used to dealing with models, and are happy that their (photographer) friend, James, is getting laid. Chris and Marko don’t mind spending time with a pretty girl, i.e. they are males.

I am not a photographer. James and I aren’t that close. I am not male and I am socially finicky. On top of this, I’m tired and not in great spirits. The last thing I need is a shrieking, obnoxious, hyperactive stranger telling me how much I suck and how she is going to kick everyone’s asses. Then the hitting begins.

Not at me, thank god, because there really would have been a fight that night. No, the object of Sassy Pant’s love taps is Chris, who bears it surprisingly well. To be clear, these are not playful jabs or chummy nudges. These are slaps to the face or punches to the stomach. Right. Chris retaliates by spanking her ass every time she hits him, which of course she likes, though in true guy-cave-man fashion, he asks James if it is okay first. James thinks it is fair retribution. Actually, I think James is a tad chagrined at that point.

Honestly, I can joke or trash talk with the best of them. The guys trash talk like you wouldn’t believe though I’m usually excluded because I’m not a good enough bowler to be a true contender and non-threatening types tend to fly under the trash talking radar. To reiterate: I’m tired, I’m sad, a very loud, screechy woman is yelling at me every time I bowl. I am no longer having any fun. After the fifth, “You fucking suck!” from Sassy Pants, was about when I was visualizing the bowling ball meeting her face mishap. James
half-smiles and says, “You can hit her, too.” to which I reply, “Not even fucking worth it!” to which I overhear her say to James, “Ohhhhh, someone is not amused.”

YEAH? DO YOU THINK, BITCH? What gave you the first inkling? Was it my pained expression or everyone else rolling their eyes? I tell Chris I’m too exhausted and I’m going to cut out early. He argues me out of it because there’s only one more game left. He says, “She’s only 21 and really insecure.” and “She’s from Utica.” and some other flimsy reasons to explain why she is a freakish douche bag. So, while I am in the ladies’ room, reportedly Sassy Pants runs up behind Chris and when he turns around she
slaps him in the face as hard as she can. Okay, this was kind of the last straw. Chris bides his time and when she least expects it, he walks over and fully slaps her in the face. Oh man, is she pissed! Normally, no way would I advocate violence of any kind, especially not against a woman, but this time I’m just sorry I missed it.

The rest of the game was uneventful and a bit quieter. We all parted ways at the train station and Sassy Pants went back to Utica. A few days later, Chris informs me that he and Sassy Pants are friends now and even did a shoot together. 100% coincidentally, one of Chris’ heroes, Terry Richardson, is planning a shoot with Sassy Pants, on the basis of a photo that Chris took. If she ever works with Juergen Teller or Nobuyoshi Araki, Chris might marry her.

****

Moral 1: I need to stop hanging out with photographers.
Moral 2: I need more not-too-frilly female friends.
Moral 3: I need to avoid models at all costs (except for Julia or Raleesha
because I liked them a lot).

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Guard That Shit with Your Life

by cari | February, 2008

Okay, my friend (Betty’s friend) is in a bit of a quandary. He wrote a musical and his good friend of three years wrote a play. There is a striking similarity between a situation in the musical and one in the play. The style and tone are quite different, but this striking similarity is of the far-too-coincidental variety. That issue has become secondary to the lack of empathy and receptivity displayed by my friend’s playwright friend. It’s upsetting enough to be betrayed by someone you trust and care about. On top of that, to have your concerns and hurt feelings be basically dismissed is inexcusable.

Creative people are essentially collectors. We constantly take note of little stories, vignettes, news items, characters that come our way. We frequently, inadvertently, use these tidbits without always remembering the source. It’s the nature of how we process the world around us.

In the end, the people we care about are all we have, and to disrespect that is a true sin. To behave as honorably as we can and to listen to one another is what redeems us at the end of the day.

Needless to say, I am beyond disgusted with my friend’s “friend”.

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Movie Watching and Other Endangerments

by cari | February, 2008

One night last year, my friend and his friend (let’s call her…Betty) go
out to see a movie, throughout which a group of people talk incessantly and
kick the back of their seats. Though dirty looks are leveled at the
offending group, the hint is not taken. When the credits roll, Betty turns
around in her seat and unleashes some serious sarcasm. She thanks the group
for ruining the entire movie and suggests they all exchange e-mail addresses
so Betty can go to their place and talk and kick the back of their couch
while they’re trying to watch a movie. The offenders fire back with some
sarcasm of their own; Oh yes, they should all be MySpace friends and go over
to one another’s apartments.

As it happens, this was simply the wrong thing to say to Betty, who has some
anger management issues for which she is currently seeking professional
help.

My friend goes to the men’s room, and when he comes out, Betty is nowhere to
be seen. He assumes she has gone home, but she catches up with him later
outside of the movie theater. It seems Betty noticed their new “MySpace
friends” leaving and decided to follow them. For ten blocks. She cheerily
walked behind them saying because they had ruined the last two hours of her
life, she was going to ruin the next two of theirs. The way Betty tells it,
the offenders, smartass pricks to the core, play along for the first four
blocks. Around block six they start to get a little nervous. By block ten
they are shitting their pants. That’s when she decides they have learnt
their lesson and she turns back.

Okay, so Betty’s behavior was a tad extreme and events needn’t have played
out quite that way. In addition, during the movie my friend and Betty could
have asked the people to be quiet. However, I sympathized with their
plight. I, too, tend to shy away from confrontation, and at times that’s a
real disadvantage. I’ve also experienced situations where a request for
silence incites more and louder talking, because if you’re yapping and
kicking seats in the first place, you’ve pretty much already established
yourself as a raging prick and chances are you are spoiling for a fight.

Because I wasn’t there, I have the luxury of hearing the story as a far
fetched revenge fantasy for all the movie theater cretins with whom I’ve
ever had to contend, unlike my friend who had that unsettling moment of
trying to figure out what the hell happened to Betty, who is a tiny, elfin
looking girl. A thin, dancer, vegetarian type who wears her brunette hair in
a cute bob.

But truly, there are so many lessons to be gleaned from this anecdote. You
never know when or where someone is going to snap a little. It pays to not
be a sarcastic prick.

But the true moral of this story is, don’t fucking talk during movies.

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Today is My Birthday. Drink Up.

by adam | February, 2008

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Running Soft Through the Night You Were Bigger and Brighter and Whiter Than Snow

by cari | February, 2008

Due to a rather tragic misunderstanding between me, my laptop and my backup
hard drive, I’ve lost all my digital photographs. Gone are my pictures of
friends and exes and streets and whatever funny little things I saw while
walking around the city. Things that were striking, or beautiful or reminded
me of something else.

It’s like there was a fire in my apartment and all my photos were destroyed.
With a fire you are left with ashes. But digital? You have nothing. It’s as
though they never existed.

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