Janie meets her match

6 05 2011

It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon and the only thing on Janie and Lou’s minds was a drink. They were Bukowski addicts and the single question to ask was location.

“Back Bay today?” asked Lou.

“No,” said Janie. “I don’t wanna deal with all those trophy-wives-in-training who trickle down from Dillon’s for one last drink before going home with some MBA major.”

“Ain’t gonna happen. Those TWITs love the outdoor seating on sunny days,” said Lou. “Makes the bleach blond sparkle. No way they’re bar hopping today.”

“Fine, but if I see some ho in Ann Taylor, you’re buying the Harpoon,” said Janie.

“Whatever.”

As Janie and Lou opened the bar door, it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the dark light. Because they were regulars they really didn’t need their vision to make their way to the bar. Half way through their journey their eyes adjusted and Janie was hit with the truth of their surroundings.

“Mother. Fucker.”

Before Lou could ask what was up, the men in the room all began to greet Janie at once, and pretty much called her everything she’s ever answered to: Jane, Janie, J-dog, liar, and lover.

Lou’s eyebrows lifted in that classic “yo-what?” expression. It was clear the men in the bar had something in common other than their regulation plaid shirts and beards.

“Uh, these are my Match dates from last week,” she said. “I was kinda busy.”

Janie had joined Match.com mostly as a way to pass the time. She didn’t believe in true love. She believed in finding new drinking friends and had no qualms about commandeering a popular dating website to achieve her goals. Unfortunately for the little heartbreaker, her dates had different expectations.

Faster than you can say shazam, a shot rang out behind Lou’s shoulder and shattered a pint glass across the room.

“Bitch, you told me you felt the spark,” squealed the man with the gun. “I believed you.”

Another man across the room sprang to his feet in Janie’s defense. “Don’t drop b-bombs on my girl. She’s better than that!” he said, as he whipped out a gun and fired off a shot to prove his devotion.

Janie and Lou dropped to the floor.

“What the fuck is this?” asked Lou.

“I don’t know,” said Janie. “I just wanted a drink.”

“I told you your beard fetish was like a gateway drug to an NRA convention. That’s why you gotta weed out the New Hampshire dudes. For safety’s sake!” said Lou. “Now we’re gonna die because a bunch of burley bimbos are hot for revenge.”

Janie and Lou wiggled their way across the dirty floor as shots rang out above them.

Lou was concerned about an exit strategy. Janie was focused on a bigger problem. Now that the Match crew was on to her habits, it was time to find a new pool of applicants for her drinking games. She reached across the floor to grab a pen lying in shattered glass. She licked the tip and wrote on the back of her hand, “Join e-Harmony.”

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2 responses

18 07 2011
The Radio Department and Asobi Seksu play River to River « The ZsaZsa Balza Column

[…] instead? For one, I was on a Match date when a former Match date walked right in front of me (kinda like art imitating life, only with less blood shed). Second, I used up all my energy singing along to Stillness is the Movie when the DJ played it […]

18 07 2011
The Radio Department and Asobi Seksu play River to River « The ZsaZsa Balza Column

[…] instead? For one, I was on a Match date when a former Match date walked right in front of me (kinda like art imitating life, only with less blood shed). Second, I used up all my energy singing along to Stillness is the Move when the DJ played it […]

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