Hippie Girl

Last weekend I went into town and saw “District 9”. Afterwards I walked next door and engaged in some Reno strip mall sushi, which doesn’t exactly measure up to Ventura Blvd strip mall sushi. The waitress, tall blonde with a Winnie Cooper braid, pointed to my Urban Outfitters Technics T and asked if I was a DJ. I told her no… “I’m a poser”. She laughed and went on to make suggestive eye contact with every plate of sushi she put on the table. Later she told me she’s been to Burning Man eight years in a row, is a fire dancer and likes the drugs. “You should come”, she said. I told her I didn’t think my body could handle five days of serotonin depletion.

I’ve never been that into chicks that party hard with the hippie drugs, or actually hippie chicks in general (with the exception of Linda Cardlini in the “Freaks and Geeks” finale). Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for Earth, Wind and Fire (the elements, not the band, although they’re good too) and a bitchin black-light/strobe-light combination, but there's no way I could date someone who forces surrealism into the minutiae of their day to day life.
Those girls are for guys cut from the same cloth. The masters of pot-smoke shotgunning, deep philosophical eye fucking and barely touching fingernail massages. Plus the hippies of the 90’s and thereafter have only a fraction of the fulsome sluttyness of their predecessors; especially compared to the boozy, "9 ½ Weeks", I like uppers on special occasions, pragmatists.
On my way out we exchanged numbers. She called five minutes later... I took the wrong copy of the credit card receipt.

1 comment:

  1. You should have gone just to observe. " you like to watch it gets you hot." Body Double........ Manius