Loser Pie: portrait of the postgraduate as a young asshole
I am thinking it may be a good idea to start a newsletter called
STORY TIME! Post Graduated Tales of Heroism and Whoaaa
(of the traumatic anti-drama genre)
*Getting locked in the stairwell of your new workplace on your first day
*Habitually dropping your purse in the same puddle because a branch you always forget to avoid knocks it out of your hands.
*Conning a taxi driver into helping you move your boxes into your new apartment
*Gaining the post-graduate 5 due to the grandiose notion that your newfound exposure to culture and real flavor while at the same time not holding a day job sets you up perfectly as Seattle’s most diligent food critic
*Frantically running away to Portland the first night of your official move to Seattle
*Having the set up for a perfect post-graduate Summer, making a million new and awesome friends- and yet, drinking yourself into a stupor of listlessness and depression
*Sometimes forgetting how to speak
*Sometimes chattering on and on at a random stranger because you haven’t spoken to a soul in two days
*Not being able to look men in the face because you think it’ll either be an invitation for them to rape you, or because you don’t want to be that fat chick checking out the guy who is out of your league due to your neurotic loathing at the thought of your barely noticeable Post Graduate 5. its mostly in your ass and tits anyway.
*bi-monthly mini freakouts because you have no money in the bank but you do have a paycheck to deposit, ALAS your bank closes in an hour and you need to partially cash the check so you’ll have money for the weekend…BUT ALAS ALACK WHOAAA you have no fucking idea where the bank is, only that there are 8 of them in your area and you pass by one of them every day so you definitely know one is just around the corner probably, like annie’s sunshine or perhaps it is hidden like the secret meeting place of the order of the phoenix what the fuck you can’t find A SINGLE ONE IN YOUR MOMENT OF NEED and panic panic lose your cool drop your “I LIVE HERE” face, your “local” act in a wave of dizziness and the vision of yourself starving, or worse, NOT HAVING THE FUNDS TO DRINK this weekend if you dont get to the bank in the next hour!!!! and you can’t even find the bank even after you’ve sucked it up and asked someone for directions to one because you’re so frantic you cant even follow directions because WHAT IF YOU DONT GET TO THE BANK ON TIME?!
but you do.
and you hit a sushi bar immediately afterwards and order yourself a drink from the happy hour menu.
This drink is called “CONFUCIUS”
it arrives in a tall green hand made clay tiki pint glass and it is flaming. You use the straw to push the flaming sugar cube atop the floating lime garnish, but the straw catches fire all the way up to your fingers. you freak out for a second until you realize that its part of the drink presentation. flammable sugar straw. you take a sip
and it rolls down your throat like limey brown sugar burnt caramel rum bitten perfection.