Apathy Kills

I've discovered my new favorite show: Californication, starring David Duchovny and that gay dude from Sex in the City (who has been decidedly un-gayed on this one. He's got a thing going with his bondage-liking secretary.) Anyway, it's a brilliantly written show, the kind of show I wish I could write. Maybe I'll do a more in-depth review once I finish watching the whole season, but don't be afraid to go watch it now. And I'm not just saying this because they have a lot of Warren Zevon on the show. I feel some sort of connection with the characters. For example, one of Duchovny's chicks says to him, "Apathy kills," and his perfect response was, "I don't care."

This weekend was the American Crafters Beer Festival (or something like that), and there was much rejoicing. I went with some friends, and we all enjoyed our tiny cups of high alcohol -content beers for about three hours. And if you've never been to one of these, those little cups catch up to you quick.

But the apathy; near the end of the festival, a girl walks up to me and asks if I ever worked at Cardinal Cushing, a school for developmentally disabled kids that I did indeed work at about five years ago when I still only worked nine months at BU and needed a job every summer. This was one of my gigs, and believe me, there was no way I could have actually worked there all year without killing myself. Also, the pay was rather meager.

I had no recollection of this girl at all, so my friends were trying to convince her that she only recognized me because I look like Jay Leno. Anyways, I played along for a few minutes, and we joked about what a crappy job it was and how we've moved onto bigger and better things, and then I moved along to the next booth. My friends tried to convince me that she was cute and I perhaps should have made an attempt to "Californicate" with her (after all, we had both been drinking heavily all evening). Still, I honestly didn't find her very cute (Perhaps alcohol has the
opposite affect on me?) and the fact that I didn't remember her at all probably would have made for awkward pillow talk. For this, I was of course chastised, but like David Duchovny, I didn't care.

Oddly, I did eventually remember her, and I hope she doesn't ever read this because, well, the years have not been kind. She looked used-up or something. Her skin was leathery from too much tanning, and she wore too much eye make-up.

I know what you're thinking (as I always do), "Dude, you're being way too critical. You hate everyone. How do you expect to ever have sex again?" Well, in fact, I don't, but I also don't hate everyone (in fact, I love women, especially the ones I can't have) and I also don't care all that much right now. And that, my friends, is real apathy.