Due to circumstance, I am prohibited about writing about my dating life. Actually, not so much “prohibited” as trying my bestest to abstain. As a result, I was finding it really difficult to write posts to inhabit my blog. Turns out there isn’t much to my life except lists and boys [and drinking].

Then, someone said “Predator.” [Bear with me people, this is a desperation post]

The mention of the movie title instantly took me back to my New York Era [aka – the Good Old Days, the Always Broke Days, the Really Badly Behaved Days, and Damn My Apartment Is Small And Really Expansive Days], where I spent the vast majority of my days and nights with a pack of five guys [one of them being my then boyfriend] with the occasional rif/raff random unsavory character mixed in. We spent about 5% our time being students [typically, the week or two before finals], 20% sleeping, and the rest [don’t ask me what “the rest” equals, I forgot math after high school] engaging in some combination of drinking/eating [tacos usually]/watching tv/general time wasting. Mostly drinking and wasting time. Or are those the same thing? Gosh, I was so good at wasting time back then.

On one particular night we all decided [one person decided, the rest of us were sheep] to gather at home base for what seemed at the time the to be the Worst. Plan. Ever. We were supposed to eat, drink, hang out [ok so far]…and watch the critically acclaimed movie Predator 2 [this is where the plan was lost me]. About three minutes into the movie, someone thought we ought to kick it up a notch by making bets on what point in the movie Gary Bussy was going to die*. There was an over/under, vegas style, and each person had to pick a specific time. You would think a bet of this nature would require some sort of high stake to be exciting, but in our case, the sheer glory of being right was always enough.

Immediatly after the bets were memorialized on the white board [why was a white board on hand? I have no idea] the night was transformd from a regular drinking night in a teeny tiny New York City apartment [which, by the way, had mice] into complete and utter magic. The highlight was when Garry Bussy died [or seemed to anyhow] and then came back to LIFE! AND THEN DIED AGAIN!!! Seriously, an outside observer would think our fathers had just won the world series or the presidency or something. It was sheer pandemonium. So much drama. So much fun!

A friend of mine was in town visiting me that weekend and was on hand to witness the glory. I will never forget her glancing over to me at one point with the look that said “So, this hooting and hollering, couch-jumping, Predator 2 watching jackass is your boyfriend? And these are the future high powered lawyers of America?”

Priceless.

* Come to think of it, I don’t remember if it was Gary or some other actor.

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1 Response to “”


  1. 1 The Hodge June 6, 2008 at 12:25 pm

    I’m not sure this blog will be half as interesting without the twists and turns of dating life.

    In his grave Vonnegut says, “So it goes…”


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dietcokeandasideoffries@gmail.com

loving, living, driving (badly), laughing, growing, losing, crying, smiling, winning, learning, watching tv, calorie counting and thriving. in LA.

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