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On Saturday I went to the New Yorker’s Passport to the Arts. By that, I mean that I skipped all the art stuff in favor of hanging out in Brooklyn and then went to the wrap party for the food and booze.
While there, I was chatting with my Immaculate Infatuation bosses (who, as usual, did a great job selecting said food and booze) about the website and future plans and they introduced me to the woman who is helping with business development. She then introduced me to the friend that she brought along to the event. After a few minutes of chatting about the website, the friend turned to me:
Her: You look really familiar.
Her: Do you ever go to The Wren?
Me: I’ve definitely been there a few times.
Her: Did you ever tell a girl there that you were on Suits?
Her: THAT WAS ME.
This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to leave my apartment. Although, she and her friends did believe that I was on Suits for a solid 15 minutes. I was only thwarted when they asked to see my IMDB page.
Does anyone know how to make an IMDB page?
Dating Sucks, vol. 3
- Her: You’re really attractive. I wish you weren’t so weird.
- Me [In My Head]: What the fuck?
- Me [Out Loud]: That's either the best or the worst backhanded compliment I've ever received.
Last night while I was purchasing a pound of broccoli at the grocery store because it was the smallest available denomination by which one could purchase broccoli, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea:
There should be a store that sells produce and other perishables in small enough servings that they don’t go bad when purchased by single people who live alone!
About three seconds after I had this idea, I realized it was not the slightest bit creative or original.
About three seconds after I realized that, I decided that I need to stop going to the grocery store alone.