Funsies

How did Coffee News know? They seem to offer decent espresso and telepathy. The first of which I can’t enjoy a cup of given the potential hole in my stomach. Sitting here in the air-conditioning, at my laptop with my ears plugged with Glen Hansard, the placard I was given for my food order was “Funsies”. The defining caption exemplifies the term “Let’s pull funsies on those boys”.

I need some funsies. I would love to pull funsies on some boys. From the moment I woke up yesterday, that was the exact term I was looking for.

This place always delivers. Good coffee. Cute waitstaff. Good food. Good people watching. The only time it didn’t deliver was the first date I had here. They really failed me on that one. This spot offers plenty for the average conversation. A huge sampling of artwork decorates the wall. I even know one of the artists, so I have that going for openers. The crowd is always mixed and interesting. If the people indoors are all Macalester-ites and huddled on their computers (oh man, I hope I don’t look like one right now), the people outside are at least worth commentary. But that day, the first of the online dating e-mails that resulted in an actual date day, there was no conversation to be found. It was hiding under the table.

Back to the funsies. I need a night on the town with the people that make me the silliest. Don’t get me wrong, the trips outdoors have been great fun. A different kind of fun. An enjoyable fun, a satisfactory fun but not a doubled-over, giggle crazy fun time. I need the later. Hard to put yourself into stitches. I need a night of laughter and ridiculousness. In all honesty, I don’t know how my stomach would react to that kind of laughter. Last time it sent me spiraling down the pain cyclone. I’d rather risk it. I need a night to forget about the dumbness of these last few weeks. The dumbness of my doctor’s visits. The dumbness of my new diet. The dumbness that I just wrote “my diet” in all seriousness. The dumbness of my job at the moment. The dumbness of my continued selflessness. I feel a little tapped out of favors. I feel a little exhausted from being so damn nice. I feel a little unlike myself, out of my routine and away from the things I want to be doing.

Screw this melancholy shit … ITunes>Search>Dead Weather.