All Caffeinated And Prepared To Be Awkward

Uh oh. I'm having a work party with a couple of friends in a coffee shop. We're all typing away on our laptops, jamming out to the Queen they're playing and generally minding our own business when in walks this guy I haven't seen in about three years. Were we friends back in the day? Totally. I think so. We worked on a lot of student films together. I thought he was cute but he always had a serious girlfriend. Anyway, he's sitting in the shop now. I think he saw me? I have no idea if he recognized me. I think he did? He's with that girl that he's now married to. I don't think she ever liked me. Probably because I spent a lot of time with him during the production of our various films. Gah, at one point I was going to hang off of a cliff with a camera for this boy. I wonder if he remembers that. I think he's one of the few people who actually got jobs in the film industry after college. He graduated a year before I did so it's been an eternity since I've even thought about him. He's sitting at the back table with his wife and some other chick. I'm being so neurotic about this. I should just go say "hi"? I want to say "hi." But I don't want to have to talk about what I've done since college. Heck, I'm probably not even the same person I was in college. Maybe he didn't recognize me. After all, my hair is longer. And here I am on a couch between The Fonz and The Poet next to one of the Hipster Gnomes in the comfy chair. I'm completely out of context. Maybe he really doesn't recognize me. He's sitting next to the bathroom. I sort of have to pee. Okay, that's a lie. I really do have to pee. I just drank a bunch of coffee and now I legitimately have to pee. Do I walk to the bathroom and casually say "hi" on the way? What if he stops me and we have a conversation and by the end of it I almost pee my pants? I'm being way too neurotic about this... The Fonz told me to just do it and get it over with. "In my experience, it's always awkward running into people," he said. "You just have to acknowledge them and move on." The Poet came late to the party so he doesn't know what's going on. I feel like I've already over-talked it so I'll tell him the story later. Hipster Gnome is engulfed in his headphones. Gah. I wish that guy would just recognize me and approach me. But I probably look intimidating over here with my menagerie of artsy fartsy friends. And he's married. "There's no reason for him to talk to you very long if he's married," The Fonz stated. He does have a good point. Though it's not like I'm going to proposition him or anything. I just want to be like, "Hey, we went to school together..." Maybe I don't need to do that. Maybe it's time to leave all of that college stuff in college. Besides, I can't for the life of me remember his wife's name. I could probably find out by Facebook-stalking him right now, but what if he walked by and saw his Facebook page up on my screen. I'm sitting against a wall, he can't possibly see what's on my screen. But still. It's the principle of it all. Which leads me to the realization that if we are friends on Facebook we should probably at least wave at each other in real life. I assume we're friends on Facebook. I've deleted a lot of people post-college but I don't think I would delete him. Maybe he deleted me. After all, I have been known to get carried away with band-promotion and that's totally grounds for deletion. Right? I should check and see if we're still Facebook friends. But that involves looking at his page while he is in the same room. I refuse to do that, as I mentioned earlier. In other news, I still have to pee. I have to pee with increasing urgency. It's a long walk home, I'm going to need to use that bathroom. Maybe I'll just awkwardly walk right to the bathroom and then greet him on the way out. Pop out of the one-person unisex stall and announce that we went to college together...DON'T YOU REMEMBER ME??? This is ridiculous. He's going to leave with his entourage soon and then I'll just have to feel really awkward. Yep, there he goes...he's getting up, clearing his table...scratching the back of his head, walking to the door, opening the door... The Fonz is leaving too. He's talking to me just as this guy exits the premises. Now The Fonz is laughing at me. "You missed your chance! How awkward! There he goes!" The Poet is clueless. I told him he can read all this when I'm done typing it. Ack. Sometimes, I feel like the female reincarnation of Woody Allen. Except he's not dead yet. But still. I'm too neurotic for my own good. Maybe I just need to move to another town and then I won't have to deal with these kinds of scenarios.
Okay boys and girls, I still have to pee like a race horse. I'll post this first. Wam BAM!
*End transmission*

Contacting The Living

So things have been quiet around this blog lately. I've been out of my normal blogging routine and all the hits I've gotten in the past week have been from electronic cigarette companies wanting me to write reviews on their products because I hang out with a bunch of smokers. Even though these cigarettes can be programmed to taste like everything from pastries to cocktails, I just don't think my blog is the right place for that.

I also think that it makes more sense to just eat a pastry, drink a cocktail, and smoke a cigarette than to mess around with a nicotine-dispensing gadget that supposedly tastes apple fritters and margaritas. But maybe that's a very twentieth century mentality.

Plus, I don't even smoke, so the whole issue of electronic vs. real cigarettes is fairly irrelevant on this blog.

But I digress. I am in my favorite cafe with a large piece of pie and I did not come here to write about the evolution of smoking equipment.

Funny how I was invited out to two different clubs tonight and I chose to wear a turtleneck and update my blog in a coffee shop while stuffing my face with chocolate espresso pie instead. I don't know if this means I'm growing up and becoming more responsible or if it just means I'm suddenly a really boring person. It probably doesn't mean either of those things - it just means I wasn't in the mood to stay out all night at some scuzzy dance club and end up having to be the sober one that drives everyone home at the end.

Gah - I am the boring/responsible one. When did that happen and how do I make it stop?

Responsible or not, I did partake in some interesting shenanigans last week. I have an alliance of sorts with The Night Manager Nerd (my mother always told me to make friends with people who have keys...I don't exactly know if she meant go talk to girls at Pizza Hut for them when they're too shy to do it themselves so that they end up with a hot date and are forever indebted to you, but whatever), so I cornered him when he was outside my window drinking beer and asked him for a favor.

Me: This is going to sound weird, but I'm going to ask you for a favor...

Night Manager Nerd: What's up?

Me: Can you let me into The Chef's old room?

Night Manager Nerd: Uhhh...

Me: I know he moved out yesterday, but they haven't rented the room again yet and he asked a few of us to go in there after he left and perform a cleansing ceremony. You know, with candles and all that crap. But there will only be a few of us and we'll clean up.

Night Manager Nerd: Well, I suppose I can unlock the door and then pretend not to know about it if anything happens...

Me: Cool, thanks!

The cleansing ceremony was a story that The Poet had helped me make up before I went to talk to The Night Manager Nerd. The Chef did not leave a last will and testament that involved hosting a seance in his old room. But we were bored and we missed him, so we decided to say goodbye to him the Blue Mountain way.

Let me back up a little bit.

The Blue Mountain Institute was founded by The Chef and The Fonz last spring. Inspired by The Big-Haired Feng Shui Lady (who made color-coded maps of the building for everyone in an attempt to get us all onboard with Feng Shui), The Blue Mountain Institute was an ongoing joke that threatened to become a reality at various public events. It mocks the new age movement and is just downright absurd. For example, different branches of The Blue Mountain Institute include Eye Contact Therapy (where The Fonz stares at you for ten minutes) and Rebirthing In The Shower Room (a ceremony involving a slip 'n' slide and a lot of ketchup).

There is also a branch for Contacting The Living.

This was The Chef's favorite. He used to make us laugh so hard by sitting at the kitchen table and pretending to contact someone who was in the next room. Maybe you'd have to be there to appreciate it, but it was always hysterical.

So there we were - me, The Fonz, The Fallen Nun, and The Poet - armed with our candles in an empty room that once held an eccentric painter. We passed around a single can of Pabst and solemnly stared at the candles.

The Fonz: Can you hear us, Chef?

Me: I'm getting a reading...

The Fonz: Me too...ohmmmm...

Me: He's somewhere...

The Fonz: A train...a plane...

Me: He's somewhere and he's drunk!

The Fonz: He's drinking a six pack of Rolling Rock!

The Poet: Why do we only have one beer???

The Fallen Nun: *obnoxiously plays an accordion*

I feel as though The Chef would be very proud to know that we attempted to contact him.

I have contacted him in a more reliable, traditional way (email) and learned that he made it to Finland. He's done painting and is going to concentrate on his musical career.

An image of him screaming "LOVE, LOVE WILL KEEP US TOGETHERRRRR" out the window through a cardboard tube immediately came to mind with the words "musical career," but you've got to give him credit for going out and doing stuff. I spend a significant amount of time daydreaming about foreign countries and rock tours and spontaneous leaps of faith, but I am yet to actually make these day dreams happen.

Someday. Things will happen.

Gah. And the award for the weirdest blog post goes to... (drum roll) this lovely thing that you are reading.

Ah well. At least it's not about cigarettes.

Guest Post - The Fonz

First off, I've got some bizarro cartoons floating around the internet that I'd like to share with you guys. I know I've mentioned The Transatlantic Support Group on here before, but I'm taking this opportunity to shamelessly plug it again because Tom, Allison, and I had way too much fun pretending to be superheros last week. I got a little bit carried away and created a three-page comic that relentlessly makes fun of hipsters. You can read that comic here. Don't forget to check out the rest of the blog while you're there!

In other news, The Fonz now knows about this blog. I reluctantly showed him a few entries from it tonight and he was fascinated. Honestly, I was nervous that he would somehow be offended by the fact that I've written about him, but he thought it was great. The whole scene was mildly reminiscent of Dumbledore telling Harry Potter he's a wizard.

He even offered to write an impromptu guest post for me. So without furthur ado, here is The Fonz:

Hi Lauren's readers- This is The Fonz, guest writing Lauren's blog entry for today because she is tired of all of you sucking out her essence and needs a break from giving so much. As for me, I am more Fonzie like everyday. My many disorders are melting away as perfect hair, perfectly white t-shirts, free juke box plays, and multitudes of STD-free sexual escapades in "my office" with the pink ladies take over where anxiety once ruled. As for Lauren she had a great day. She had a heartfelt walk around our neighborhood with a local eastern Guru who gave her advice that comes from the nether regions of Nepal and from Oprah. She now feels more enlightened and free and even broke into laughter and tears simultaneously as she pointed with joy at one of God's greatest creations; the squirrel. She marveled at her new insight and her delight in finally being able to see a squirrel's testicles for the first time. "Look at them, basking in the sunlight, it's sooo beutifuuul.." she exclaimed. The world is full of wonders and Lauren is headed down a new path of positivity, relationalness, dreamtucking, and happijoyness.

That concludes today's message from The Fonz. I apologize for the strange squirrel humor. Believe it or not, that story is all based on actual events (though I believe he misquoted me a bit towards the end).

By the way, you guys are definitely not "sucking out my essence," as The Fonz so poetically stated. Just for the record. :D

Anyway, I've got lots more to write about but I should really go to bed. Hopefully I'll be able to throw another post up here tomorrow. But for now, I'm gonna get sleep. Goodnight, amigos.

Fonzie: Paranormal Edition

It's 2:30 in the morning. I'm contemplating putting on my pajamas when there is a knock on my door.

Nobody ever knocks on my door past midnight, so I yell "Who is it?" It's The Fonz. I open the door. He's holding an iPod and looking slightly distressed.

The Fonz: This iPod was laying in the kitchen, is it yours?
Me: No, it might be So-And-So's.
The Fonz: Okay. Sorry to bother you. I just didn't want to leave something like this in the kitchen tonight because I saw some guy walking down the hallway just now and I think he is the ghost of Fonzie.
Me: What?
The Fonz: Yeah, he looked like Fonzie. I think he was a ghost. He had a black t-shirt, hair that went like this... *makes hand motions*
Me: Are you just saying this because we had an hour long conversation about ghosts tonight?
The Fonz: No, no, The Poet saw him too. He thinks it might be a real person but I think it's the ghost of Fonzie.
Me: Did you talk to him?
The Fonz: No, I just saw him. And he looked like Fonzie. Anyway, sorry to bother you. Goodnight, Sweater.
Me: Goodnight, Fonz.

I close the door and wonder how fictional television characters can become ghosts.

I triple-check that the door is locked and go to bed.

My Life Is Normally Pretty Bizarre, But This Week Is Ridiculous...

These past two days have been really, really strange. Strange in the surreal, my-life-is-a-sitcom sort of way. Allow me to deliver some of the highlights:

- The Fonz decided that everybody here should have a new name. A commune name. Some people have cool Biblical names while others are named after state capitols. Some people are stones or flowers. My neighbors on either side of me are now Sparkle and VuVu. I am Sweater. Yes, like the article of clothing you wear when it is cold out. The Fonz came up with it.

- The guy I met the other day is a regular in that coffee shop and I saw him again. I had another great conversation with him, but was turned off by the fact that he kept checking his email while I was talking. It also came up that there's a significant age difference between us. There was an awkward moment where he said something along the lines of, "You know...I was coaching track when you were in middle school...I could have been your track coach." There was a pause, followed by a mutual "that's weird." Oh well. At least I have a cool new coffee shop friend.

- I went on a grocery shopping mission with The Fonz. This involved pretending we were a married couple and calling each other by our fake commune names throughout the store.

- I got the world's weirdest text message tonight. I don't need to go into what it actually said, but it's proof that grown adults are still completely capable of acting like they are in middle school. Let's just say that somebody in the commune who is my mother's age started a downright absurd rumor about me. And then she had the nerve to text me about it to ask if it was true.

- I discovered that there are mice running around in the commune. I haven't seen any in my room, but I saw one in the kitchen tonight and I screamed like a melodramatic little girl. Now I'm all paranoid.

- I swallowed my pride today and contacted the guy who owns the restaurant downstairs. He's finally hiring people. I'm not really that enthusiastic about working there, but I really need a job. Looks like it's time to be a waitress...*insert profanity here*

- I keep thinking that it's time to travel. I'm still trying to figure out where. I need to invent an excuse to go somewhere cool and have new experiences. I love Portland and I adore the commune (for the most part), but it's all getting a little too small and slightly weird. Okay, people in the hallway here say "Hi, Sweater!" when I walk by. That probably counts as more than slightly weird...

That's all I've got. I'm sure I'm probably leaving something out, but those are the highlights.

Peace out, amigos.

Do You Believe In Life After Love? (OR: YOU! I Wanna Take You To A Gay Bar!)

It's been a weird week.  I guess it all began last Saturday.

There was a conversation that needed to happen but left me in a state of sadness.  So I was busy being melancholy in my cave when there was a knock on the door.  It was The Fonz.  He was wearing a satiny black tiger-striped blouse and toting a bottle of vodka.  Purple Hair and The Fallen Nun were with him, laughing and wearing equally ridiculous outfits.  Purple Hair had on a sparkly gold cape and The Fallen Nun had a brightly-colored Western motif going on. 

"Yo baby gurrrl, you goin dancin with us?"  asks The Fonz.  Earlier, a bunch of us had talked about going out to a club down in the Industrial District.  I wasn't really in the mood anymore, but I couldn't say "no" to Fonzie and his epic guido attire.  I went straight to my closet to put an outfit together. 

I should probably mention that this was a club I hadn't been to before.  It was not my usual 80's night or Bollywood-themed discotheque.  It wasn't a seedy dubstep dive or a Top 40 bump-and-grind fest. 

This was a gay club. 

When I go dancing, it's usually just about dancing for me.  Therefore, it doesn't really matter to me if it's a gay club or not.  Plus, it's no secret that the homosexual community has better dance music.  Anyway, my friends weren't going to let me just wear my standard black dress this time around.  Purple Hair went to go dig through her closet and came back with a sparkly red cape.  I skeptically put it on with a black skirt, my power boots, and a big chunky silver cuff bracelet I hadn't really worn since high school.  My friends cheered.  I was Little Red Riding Hood meets Wonder Woman, and I was on my way to a club called Blow Pony.

Play this song for dramatic effect: 



We borrowed Mr. Syracuse's SUV and headed towards downtown.  The club itself was a little bit hard to find.  When we finally arrived, there was a line stretched all the way down the block.  To our disappointment, the line was full of gay suburban hipsters.  We were the most flamboyant people there.  I felt a little stupid, as I should have.  Feel free to laugh at me, queer readers. 

In my defense, things were a lot more flamboyant inside the club.  I did not feel completely out of place in the sparkly red cape.  But I did feel like alcohol was necessary if I really was going to wear that all evening.  The Fonz had similar feelings about his guido shirt (which, by the way, belonged to Purple Hair).  We went and got some PBR while the DJ spun Lady Gaga remixes and some guy in a speedo danced the stage. 

The club was really crowded and the four of us had a hard time keeping track of each other.  It wasn't long until we lost The Fonz.  I figured he just went to the bathroom or something and kept dancing.  The music was great and I was having I blast. 

A Cher song came on and everyone in the whole place knew all of the words.  Generally, I hate Cher, but at that moment the only thing I could do was turn to The Fallen Nun and belt out the following words:

"Do youuuu beliiiiiiieve in liiiife after love?"

That's more than slightly embarrassing.  But it was a "when in Rome..." situation.

Anyway, The Fonz remained missing for most of the night.  We found him when we were about to leave.  He was drunk and making new friends.  When we left the club, it wasn't long until he was peeing on the sidewalk.  "Lauren, we need to have an awkward moment tonight.  I'm going to pee in front of the car!" he announced. 

Then we all went home and made tacos.  It was a successful evening.  Honestly, I think I had more fun at that club than I normally do at straight clubs.  I think it's because of the music. 

Seriously.  There must be a miniature gay man trapped inside my brain and managing my musical preferences.  If you take a look at my iPod, you'll quickly discover that the Lady Gaga/80s synthpop/eurodance to rock music ratio is disturbingly unbalanced. 

But I digress.  The day after the gay club adventure brought it's own surprises (Urgent Care, anyone?) but I'll save that for another post.  I'm trying to get better at splitting things up into digestable episodes instead of just dumping a million paragraphs of dribble upon you guys. 

So that's all for now.  There will be more to come. 

San Diego, Here I Come!

So right now I'm at my parents' house doing a ton of laundry and packing clothes into a suitcase. My mom won tickets to The Sunset Sessions in California and is taking me. It was one of those big radio station contests that nobody ever wins. Somehow, she won. Now I'm packing a bag for San Diego and preparing for a weekend of music. I'm stoked. I'm not entirely sure what to expect but I think it's going to be awesome. There will be a lot of up-and-coming artists there as well as some well-known acts. It also sounds like we get to go to a couple of exclusive garden/pool parties and hang out with music industry people.

Naturally, I've spent all day freaking out about what I'm going to wear. Also, I plan on having a purse full of demo CDs. Just in case I find myself in an elevator with somebody big.

You'd think I'm going away for a month the way I'm packing. I'm seriously taking five pairs of shoes. It's a three-day trip. Hey, a girl has got to look good! Don't judge.

I realized today that I've never really left the commune for more than a night. My friends there are super excited for me, but they are all acting like I'm going to be gone forever. It's actually kind of endearing.

The Fonz knocked on my door today to wish me a safe flight and a good trip. I then ran into him about five times before I took off towards my parents' house. Every time I saw him, he would awkwardly say something like, "I already said 'goodbye' to you! I'm not supposed to see you until Sunday!"

I've been instructed to text The Poet when my plane lands so that he can tell the whole crew that I safely made it to San Diego. I tried to assure everyone that I was not going to die on a two-hour plane ride, but they are a paranoid bunch.

Speaking of paranoia, I just remembered I hate airplanes. On top of just getting really anxious, I'm infamous for being that person that vomits everywhere during a flight. I'm nervous just thinking about it.

Okay, I should finish packing. And then sleep. Maybe I'll blog from my phone tomorrow to keep you guys updated.

Look at me - "I'll blog from my phone." A year ago I would have made fun of myself for that. Actually, I think I still kinda want to make fun of myself for that. Haha.

I'm going to end this while I'm still slightly making sense. Goodnight, amigos.

The Fonz Strikes Again

I was washing some dishes in the kitchen when I ran into The Fonz.

"I have a Valentine's Day present for you!" he exclaimed. "I'll be right back!"

I put my dishes away and braced myself for an awkward moment.

The Fonz returned with something behind his back. "This is not romantic," he announced. I was relieved. He then presented me with a day planner.

"They were giving these out for free at the college when I took my swim class today," he said. "I thought they were really cool so I grabbed some for all of my favorite people here. Happy Valentine's Day!"

I gave him the over-sized, coffee-stained print of The Delaware Water Gap that I've been meaning to pass off to him and wished him a happy Valentine's Day in return. He then went on a mission to find The Poet so he could give him a planner.

I have the quirkiest friends these days but I wouldn't have it any other way. Though the day planner moment was quite comical, I totally appreciated The Fonz's gesture. I think that a lot of people (myself included) get so focused on the aspect of l-o-v-e that they forget to acknowledge friendships on Valentine's Day.

And now I can organize my schedule like a functional member of society. Huzzah!

Anyway, that's all I've got for tonight. Perhaps my next post will be slightly more intelligent.

So, That Was Hilarious/Horrifying...

I think I just spent the past two hours cleaning my room. 

Okay, allow me to rephrase that:

I think I just spent the past two hours cleaning my room with The Fonz.

Apparently that man gets a rush out of sorting other peoples' recycling.  Who knew?

I didn't really ask him to come over and clean my room, it was just something weird that happened after a long conversation in the kitchen about HGTV.

And when he followed me back to my room, I really thought he was just going to help me move my couch.  I didn't expect him to go into home improvement mode and spend the rest of the night feverishly organizing my messy apartment (while grooving to 80's music).  Frankly, it was a little intense.  I was grateful for his help and now I have functioning shelves, but the whole experience was a little bizarre.  I've never seen anyone get so excited about cleaning things. 

He threatened to come back tomorrow to help me clean out my closet.  "We'll go through your clothes and get rid of the things you don't wear anymore!" he exclaimed.  I had to remind him that we weren't really on HGTV. 

Hi, my life is a sitcom.

More interesting stuff later.  I need to go to bed.

The Year Of The Fonz

A long time ago I mentioned that there's a guy on my floor who initially reminded me of my old piano teacher. He's in his early thirties and is from Chicago. He works as a park ranger during the summer and is fairly neurotic. He didn't really come out of his room a lot the first couple of months we all lived here but that's beginning to change. Shortly after New Year's Day, he hung out in the kitchen with the late night kitchen crew (i.e: The Poet, The Fallen Nun, Mr. Syracuse, Purple Hair, and myself) and announced that he was tired of not being cool.

"I want to be like Fonzie," he said. "Fonzie did whatever the hell he wanted and was always cool."

The whole kitchen crew had the same response: "Fonzie? That guy from 'Happy Days' that was in high school forever and ever?"

"F@#$ yeah! The Fonz was so cool!" he replied.

The conversation continued and by the end of the night, our friend the nervous park ranger decided to reinvent himself with Fonzie as his model.

"This is The Year Of The Fonz!" he exclaimed. "Ask me how old I am?"

"Okay. How old are you?"

"I'm gonna be turning 29 later this year."

And thus The Year Of The Fonz began. From here on out, I will refer to this individual as The Fonz.

Though the concept of aspiring to be a television character is insanely comical, it's actually quite inspiring to watch someone make such a conscious effort to improve their life. The crazy part is that it actually seems to be working. Not only has this guy seemed more confident and outgoing in the past couple of weeks, but multiple women have expressed their interest in him. I am not making this crap up.

Anyway, in my last post I mentioned a fun new collaborative project I'm working on. I think I failed to mention that my collaborative partner is The Fonz. We have the same bizarre sense of humor and like a lot of the same music (not to mention we both gave a report using puppets sometime in elementary school and were both forced to do it multiple times because the teacher loved it...now that's not a connection you make with somebody everyday...). So we figured we would give the collaboration thing a shot. We've gotten together a couple times and have slipped various ideas and sketches under each others doors. It's still a "top secret embryo" of an idea, but if/when it comes together it will be entertaining at the very least.

Last night, I had just gotten off the phone with my dad when there was a deep voice calling my name from right outside my door. I opened the door and it was The Fonz (wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, of course).

Me: Um, did you knock or were you just lurking around saying my name?
The Fonz: I was just saying your name. Is that not cool?
Me: Yeah...that was creepy...I don't think The Fonz would do that...
The Fonz: That was creepy? Oh my god, I'm sorry. I don't want to be creepy.
Me: It's alright, you've just gotta work on your entrance.

He left and came back. This time he knocked and said, "Hey hey! Yo Lauren, it's me!"

Fonzie (the real one) would have approved of this entrance.

What happened next was supposed to be a top secret jam session/brainstorming party for our project entitled "The Mushroom Heads." But we got way too into it and we were so loud and obnoxious that the whole building heard us and our imaginary cartoon British rock band. Apparently there was even a small crowd of people listening outside the door at one point. Everyone had the same questions:

- What the heck was going on in that room?
- Who was the British guy?
- Who was playing the tambourine?

When they realized that the British guy playing the tambourine was really just The Fonz with a fake accent, curiosity shot through the roof.

Meanwhile, the two of us were oblivious that we had an audience and were busy writing and belting out a song about germs. I can't remember the last time I had that much fun being that obnoxious.

Maybe we're jumping the shark with this cartoon band idea, but maybe we're onto something. Either way, it's a fun side project.

After our noisy, pseudo-British jam session, we discovered that my new teenage neighbor was having girl problems. So we joined forces with The Poet (and his guitar) to cheer the poor guy up with a hearty Nirvana sing-along. We also composed a new song entitled "Get Over Her, You Can Do Better." The Fonz played guitar and I accompanied him on the tambourine. The kid seemed significantly cheerier when our song was done.

I'd like to think that the real, fictional Fonzie would have been proud of all of us.