I'm kinda getting tired of my town. I need to find other things to do with my time other than going out to the bars (whether I'm drinking our not). It just seems like I keep meeting the same people over and over again only in different bodies.
There's the outdoorsy guy with a beard or scruffy face stubble drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon and talking to you about why he moved to Montana a year ago. The reason is one of two things: to become a fly-fishing guide, or to go to school here part-time and ski full-time. In the span of your ten minute conversation all about him, he has pulled out his wallet and is showing you his picture of the love of his life, his black lab Madison. This is the type of guy who seems great until you realize that this guy moved here for himself and if you feel like being fourth in line behind numero uno, the great outdoors, and Madison, then you snagged yourself a keeper??
Or even worse, the trust fund hipster. This guy is just soooo cool in his thrift store vintage tee and 80's down vest. Depending on which kind of hipster (the dirtbag or the band member) he is drinking either a Pabst or a local micro-brew (complete with a slice of fruit in it). He wants to talk music, but only the music he thinks is relevant--like really obscure bands that only 3 people in Europe have ever heard of or . . . the Shins. Don't worry, he's not gonna be around town longer than 3-5 years tops, because eventually he'll get bored, ask his parents for an advance from the fund, and be off hiking in Costa Rica or New Zealand or some stupid shit that sounds cool and costs a small fortune. Plus, the adventures make for some great pictures to post on Facebook. Kool brah.
The Montana Gangster just makes me giggle. This is the guy who is wearing a black shirt with that weird metallic shit all over the front and back and sides. His hat is cocked to the side and he oozes confidence (but the silly kind--again with my giggling). This guy knows how to drink liquor. Hennessey. Gin. Rum. He's into it all and he's always got a full cup. He wants to look bad-ass. If your looking for convo, go elsewhere. Grrrrrlll, he doesn't want to talk.
TRUE STORY My experience with a MTGangster this weekend:
Random MTG walking towards me on the sidewalk:
"Yo girl! What's my name?" His fist out to give me a pound.
Me (not amused and not pounding anything on him):
"Umm . . . your mom??"
I'm sure I'm missing the other wonderful boring-ass reruns I've been meeting lately, but these are just the most prominent that are coming to mind right now. I don't know if it's Montana that influences these body snatchers or if I am just looking in the wrong places? But if it doesn't get better soon . . . I'm going to become a hermit or just get the hell out of dodge.
I guess I'm just waiting for someone to come along and blow my freekin' mind. They don't have to be crazy, off the wall, different--just realer than real (yes I just wrote "realer").
One foot in MT and one foot in . . .?
1 comment:
I've chased construction all my lafe. Every bar I played in was the same. The faces changed, but the stories were the same
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