We’ve been flirting for a while now, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hangout with Lizzie or just be friends, we totally hit it off, but you know, if there’s one thing that’s not gonna happen would be me being tied down, however awesome this woman could be. What I mean is, if she’s not a hipster, we know how this is gonna end. Don’t we? I noticed she had a smoking pipe in her purse, but I didn’t say anything. Crack heads can be fun sometimes.
After that, I convinced myself that we should hangout, but she couldn’t hangout on a Monday because she had to go to Port Newark for some sort of appointment. A hipster responsible? A responster? Hm. I was intrigued. We met, kept having the same arguments about bands that sell out and other bands that would never. Money for nothing.
We drank. We talked. We conquered. I think this might be it. I wanted to disagree with most of her remarks, she kept on going and made me laugh. But then, out of the blue, she started listing her qualities, as if this was a topic: “I’m smart. I’m independent. I am what I am.” And then it finally hit me: she was Popeye, The Sailor Man! I thought she was giving the bartender the stinky eye, but no. Now everything makes sense. Ugh. So close.
Name: Lizzie
From: Denver
Job: TV Producer
Relationships: Playing hard to get
Personality: TV Geek
Funny: Yes, if you own a TV set.
Drink: Fake drunk
Body type: Curvy and not the chubby kind, more on the vavoon side.
Make out skills: Good, but tasted like spinach.
Hipsterity: She despises Lost.
