Everyone except Subway Boy knew it was over as soon as he sent that picture of his salad, but Penny was determined to be a less-bitchy version of her normal self and attempt one more date. (Just not on Friday because one can only take so much stupid in one 24-hr period.)
Then life (and Facebook) happened, and Penny determined that one can only take so much stupid. Period.
The only question remaining was how to rid herself of Subway Boy without too many ramifications given their mutual residency in a not too terribly large apartment community. Sunday and Monday both passed blissfully with nary a text from Subway Boy, and Penny let herself feel hope.
This was where she made her fatal error.
Never feel hope.
Subway Boy (SMS): Howdy neighborino. Hope ur feelin better :) [sic]
DEAR ZEUS. Continue reading
I had an extraordinarily lovely Saturday, filled with belated birthday celebrations with friends from all over. Oxford Comma lived up to his previously granted title of Best Boyfriend Ever by organizing a successful party populated by friends who all lived up to their titles of Best Friends Ever. There were Muppet cupcakes and homemade Cheesy Blasters. ‘Nuf said.
Anyway, this is all prefacing the fact that I had a wicked hangover on Sunday (red wine plus chocolate moonshine… good decisions) and all I want in the world right now is buckets of instant macaroni with processed powdered cheese sauce. So I brought in some Annie’s to work for lunch. Perfection.
UNTIL! While on my way to the kitchen to microwave the mac, I dropped my bowl and all of its dry pasta contents on the undoubtedly disgusting floor. The sad little mac elbows stared at me helplessly from amongst the ceramic chards.
“You can scoop us up and microwave us in your coffee mug!” They seemed to implore. “Rescue us from the fate of the garbage can! We will be safe in your tummy!
Obviously consuming repulsive carpet residue peppered with crunchy bits of ceramic bowl was out of the question.
But for one second – just a second – I considered.
Monday, Penny met a boy walking home from the subway stop.
Tuesday, Penny and Subway Boy went out for drinks, played pub trivia, and were mutually mediocre at pool.
Wednesday, Subway Boy asked Penny if she had plans for the weekend; they set a date for Friday night.
Thursday, Penny received the following picture message:
Greek salad. Soooooo much Greek salad.
Friday, Penny had a “family emergency”. (Because it is always too soon for pictures of your food.)
(Or, apparently Drunk Penny makes quite the impression.)
Strapping Marine (SMS): What’s up Penny? This is Strapping Marine, we met in [CITY] about a month ago. You were awesome, I’m back in town, we should hang out.
Penny: Circeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee <<huge breath> eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Circe: Yes, Penny?
Penny: Apparently the ignored texts and unreturned voicemail weren’t enough of a hint. Strapping Marine is back in town. I don’t have to respond, right? This is ridiculous. Wait. Can we go somewhere for the weekend?
Polly: That last tune was another fantastic Spice Girls cover brought to you by Polly! Up next, some softer sounds to shave to, here’s Polly’s rendition of that Bette Midler’s classic: The Rose. You’re listening to DJ…
What would my DJ name be?
DJ Tanner. Ha. DJ Tanner.
BOOK DJ TANNER FOR YOUR NEXT RAUCOUS RAVE! SPINNING THE FULLEST OF FULL HOUSE BEATS.
Polly’s Shoulder Devil: That is officially the most awful thing I have ever heard in my life. Just get out of the shower and crawl back in bed. You’re not worth anything today.
Why you gotta be like that, Shoulder Devil?
Polly’s Shoulder Angel: Don’t listen to her, sugar! You just keep doin’ your thang.
Polly: Thanks Shoulder Angel! I appreciate your sassy support. Time to get down: