Its Not Coca-Cola, its Rice

We had some really witty banter at work today.

The topic of discussion: the recent discovery of a restaurant somewhere in Arizona that bears a strikingly, similar resemblance to the one I work in. Similar artwork, design, nearly identical menu items... We found it quite humorous, and pondered the possibilities that it was in fact an alternate universe restaurant, exactly like our own, and that the staff consisted of Bizarro versions of ourselves, with lives and personalities similar to our own, only more successful version of ourselves.

My alternate-universe-restaurant me would be a successful writer, singer-songwriter on the side, who only works at the restaurant because he truly loves it, doesn't care for money... He's also happily engaged and coming out with a book in the fall. And his mustache is way, way cooler than the one I am growing.

Then we listed all the complaints and problems we've ever had, and said after each and every one, that "they probably don't have this problem at that restaurant..."

...

But yes, most importantly the mustache (I pronounce it "Moo-stache"), is coming in nicely, as nicely as mustaches can gently grow in.

My roommate and I are currently making a movie about it, using stop-motion animation. Every night I sit in the same poses as she snaps photos. I'm really glad this process is being documented, because I don't think I'll ever be able to grow another one again.

...

The girl-who-leaves-forever-tomorrow and I have said our goodbyes. A most memorable night out to the local sports/frat/jock/sorority/college/ bar that I have never, ever set foot in, and probably never will again. But it was an adventure. And then we made out. A lot.

Agreements to keep in touch, possibly visits, promises of "I will see you again..."

I'm not so sure overall. Will we?

I'm glad it happened either way. One friend called it a rebound relationship with an expiration date, perfect for you.

...

Then there was the call from the X-f, the first in a long time. Twenty minutes of conversation. Then she invited me to a party at her place this weekend.

I've been triple guessing this, twisting it around in my head, putting it under the microscope, and most of all trying not to think about it. Wondering if there's motives. Or something, or maybe I'm overreacting.

Still thinking its not a good idea for me to go.

An odd coincidence too, that roommate pointed out, I get a call the day this girl leaves.

...

I have decided I'm being silly about all of this. Why am I so quick to muck about with girls again?

True, the lust factor is in overdrive, the warm weather is here, the leaves are gonna pop any day now, I saw my first bumble bee, and spiders are invading the house again. I invite the spiders into my bathroom. Then they can feast on ants.

Yes they still are invading, with frequent raids. They have developed a smaller model of ant, that is really teeny-tiny. I wonder if they're biological weapons of some sort, designed to infiltrate the hole I'm still trying to plug up in the shower where they get in.

...

I digressed. I'm leaning towards a new policy for myself - no going after the ladies. Or at least not desiring it so much. Let it come to me, or not at all. I'm ignoring all interest from girls for a while. Or perhaps my own interest for girls.

Of course the minute I seriously believe I am capable of such a feat, the day I actually feel it, that's when I meet someone new that really fucks me up and gets inside.

...

I've also been listening to the Clash song, "Straight to hell" like, numerous times. Its been in my head for two weeks straight. I can't get that groove out of my head.