You Don't Want Me for A Yentl

I am all too easily amused. With a sometimes devious sense of humor and a nigh-unending supply of sarcasm, it doesn't take much to keep me entertained. To wit: I like to choose men for my roommate when we are out and about. She knows I am never serious; she knows I take great delight in finding the most inappropriate and strange looking men I have ever seen; she knows I find it highly difficult to resist any impulse I have toward snarkiness.

Anyway, she told me yesterday that I most definitely not allowed to choose her future eternal companion.

Of course, yesterday I called her back into the living room so she could hear the bluegrass group from across the street. (They're good!) And I told her about them: how I was unsure if the whole group lived in that particular place, but how I was sure that the banjo player lived there because I often seem him out on his porch. And then, because I'm me, I told her that the banjo player doesn't look too shabby.

Please, let it be duly noted, this is not a lie. The banjo player doesn't look too shabby. A little fashion-challenged, perhaps, since I swear all of his shirts are plaids. Plaids that all basically have the same cut. Anyway, I told her that maybe I would sometime approach him to say how much his mad banjo skills impress me. And then to tell him he and my roommate should totally go out, because she would be able to appreciate his mad banjo skills even better than I would!

And then she had to go and interrupt my little fantasy by telling me that I am not allowed to choose the men she dates. Considering that my previous track record includes bald-headed motorcycle men, an older hippie man selling tie-dye, and innumerable tattooed and mohawked people... I'd think a banjo player would look good in comparison.

Better yet, I think he has a friend who plays the ukelele... :)