“You know, I just ate there last week and frankly, I’m getting a little tired of nouveau cuisine.”
TEXT MESSAGE: Cranberry pants is tired of nouveau cuisine…
“I’ll tell you what, I like restaurant week, but I’m really excited for October’s Spa Week. It’s great. I do it every year.”
TEXT MESSAGE: Cranberry pants likes spa week.
Have you ever found yourself in a situation that made you stop breathing and wonder where the hell you were? I’m talking about a feeling where you stop breathing and look around the room only with your eyes hoping, just hoping that none of your friends are there to see you?
Bueno, as you can guess it, I was in one of these moments this weekend. My pain was, however, not experienced alone as mi amigo Paulo was there with me. Paulo is one of mi Linda’s Brazilian friends who look like he stepped off a flight from Dublin. One thing that is not Anglo about him is his sarcastic sense of humor and very Brazilian ability to give everyone he meets a nickname.
One of mi Linda’s girlfriends was “associating” with Cranberry Pants. In truth, I don’t remember this chico’s name because he is one of those people that make me smile every single time I look his way.
He is one of those men who is extremely well put together. You know the type. The guy who has absolutely PERFECT eyebrows? I’m talking the perfect flipped around Nike swoop eyebrows. He’s almost pretty, but in a manufactured way. Does that make sense?
The first time I met him he was wearing Cranberry colored pants. I’ve since been told that these are called “Nantucket Reds.” Nantucket Reds… I, bueno, I call them douchebag pants. Red douchebag cranberry pants. Maybe this is an example of a cultural divide, but guess what? We’re not in Nantucket and your eyebrows are too perfect. Why must your eyebrows be so perfect? Why? I keep on wanting to hit you in the eyebrows. Does this make me a bad persona?
Oh, I almost forgot. He doesn’t drink alcohol. The fact that he doesn’t drink alcohol doesn’t bother me. It’s the fact that he always lets everyone around him know that he doesn’t drink alcohol.
“Yes, I’ll have an ice tea please. I don’t drink alcohol.” Imagine him saying this by shaking his head up and down while smiling with his perfect eyebrows. Mi abuelo once told me that every man should be able to drink whiskey. I respect the fact that some people choose not to drink. In fact, I admire them. I just don’t admire the people that do it for the sake of attention. Isn’t the fact that his eyebrows are perfect enough attention?
"It's ok. I can drive. I don't drink alcohol."
Gracias cranbery pants, but I rather wear an inside out barbed wire condom.
Oh, you’ll love this. He doesn’t drink, he wears cranberry colored pants, his eyebrows are perfect AND he wears the PATCH. Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to mention that he’s never smoked a cigarette in his life. He wears them to stay up. And oh, guess where he puts them? On his biceps. That’s right. His biceps. It’s a very convenient place for him to place them. I've seen him show every girl the biceps. I think his cranberry pants are confusing them all. It's like they serve as a mind roofie. I hate his eyebrows so much.
Mi abuelo once also told me, “Tell me with whom you walk and I’ll tell you who you are.”
Dios, I pray my dead grandfather doesn’t think I walk with this guy… I don’t even know what “nouveau cuisine” means.