my love for you is ticking clock

It’s Saturday night. I’m bored. I wander the city like a nomad - along the way, I find the pants of 2003 and the best denim jacket I’ve ever seen. I buy the appropriate undergarments for the pants. I end up at Target, where I am looking at sunglasses. My phone rings.

Me: HelLO, Sonya!
Sjet: Hey, whatcha doing?
Me: I’m at Target looking at sunglasses.
Sjet: You’re WHAT?

She is going to see live music. I decide that’s a much better idea than shopping for sunglasses. First, I go over for some Scrabble, where we discover the joys of Lickable Lox Pox. We discuss whether or not people in Midieval times raged (and whether they would have spelled it ragede.) I eat the best bologna sandwich of my whole life.

After Sjet kicks my ass, we go to see Viva l’American Death Ray Music and the A-Frames at Sunset in Ballard. I pick out my big 3 - #1 is an asshole and shoves people. #2 inadvertently shields us from danger. #3 smells really good. (We both agree.) I thoroughly enjoy myself during the first show. Things really get interesting when the second band comes on. Now, I don’ t know if you’ve ever seen these guys, but they are freaking hysterical. I want them to bust into a chorus of

MY LOVE FOR YOU IS LIKE MACK TRUCK
BERZERKER!
WOULD YOU LIKE TO MAKE SOME FUCK
BERZERKER!but they never do. They sing a song about being a test-tube baby. They sing a song about plastic surgery that includes the line “I have a thing but want a hole.” And the best (worst?) part was that we are right between the mohawked skinheads who keep trying to start a mosh pit in front AND the snarky college boys who keep shouting about how terrible the band is. People are throwing empty beer glasses. I can’t tell who is a friend of the band and who is an enemy. I briefly wonder what I would do if mohawk-boy actually crashed into me. From behind me, I hear “GWAR sucks!” and “Play some Joy Division!” and “My Hebrew grandmother in Israel plays better than you!”
MY LOVE FOR YOU IS TICKING CLOCK
BERZERKER!
WOULD YOU LIKE TO SUCK MY COCK
BERZERKER!
The wimpy-looking bass player sings a song. He’s better than the actual lead singer. By this point I’m tired and vaguely tipsy and everything is getting funnier by the second. Sjet and I sing “We are the champions” over their last song. It fits perfectly.

We drive back to Capitol Hill, where I take a shower in her bathroom since we have no hot water at my house. When I’m done, I tell her that I feel a little like I’ve just had a one-night stand. I’m coming out of the shower with my hair wet, it’s the middle of the night, and I’m putting on my shoes as quietly as I can before I kiss the girl in the bed goodbye and whisper that I’ll call her later.