So Contrary and I just can't get through the week lately without drinking. Okay, who am I kidding?—I never get through the week without drinking. So we head to Cricket's for Happy Hour. She relates a story about a guy in her class who has apparently been watching her so closely that he knows what she writes in her notes.

"How long have I been on the jackoff playlist?" Contrary asks. "I mean, am I on the heavy rotation?"

Yeah. Ewww. This group of people walk in and rearrange tables and they are dressed like it's a night at the Roxbury.

"I hate those people. I don't know them but I hate them." Contrary and I sneer.

One of the girls has this shirt on with leather patches on the shoulders. They look sort of like trash bags. And then there's a silver clip on each shoulder. What the hell is that? What is it for? Is she Catwoman? Oh, no. She also has fuschia pumps on. Yeah, you read that right. FUSCHIA. HEELS. At Cricket's on a Tuesday night? Please.

"Jane Fonda circa 1982," Contrary observes when checking out the shoes.

Next to Catwoman and The Hated People, there's a guy and his girlfriend. We decide to call him Ankle Socks. She shall be Unfortunate Girlfriend of Ankle Socks (UGOAS), because, really? Ankle socks and Vans? How old are you, buddy? And why why why is the fashion in here tonight so bad? Ankle Socks apparently knows that his days with his lady are numbered (due to his poor fashion sense) because he is holding on to her arm across the table. Let go, dude! She is not going to run away—okay, she might. Especially if you keep gnawing on your chicken wings like that.

Contrary directs my attention to one of the Hated Couples. She's wondering why Sad Girl looks so sad.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" I ask. Her boyfriend keeps eating her tacos...of course she's sad! A girl's gotta eat!

"But, shit, the tacos are only 99 cents—get a couple more."

I have to agree with Contrary's sage statement. We order more beers and the night takes a turn for the…hmmm, worse? Interesting? What exactly is going on? There's something about Shaquille O'Neal and his obsession with the Superman symbol. I guess he fancies himself some sort of Superman. Contrary agrees. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Contrary admits that she would have sex with 'ol Cross-Eye himself, given the opportunity. Is that really an opportunity or a sentence for doing something really really bad?

There's a guy at the next table who looks like Charlotte's husband from Sex and the City.

"What's your sign?" he asks me.

"Stop," I reply.

The fashion is definitely taking a turn for the worse, as I spot the 80s leather jacket with the waistband. Nurse Egon was fond of that look. Hell. There never should be a cinch in the leather—no wait—ANY—jacket on a man. The corollary to that rule? No pleats on a man's pant. Especially on a fat man. Oh yeah, and one more. No Sansabelt pants until the age of 65. And maybe not even then.

And really, Ashton Kutcher, thanks so much for bringing back the trucker hat. I love that mesh look. I do. Not. As if we didn't have enough to worry about. Whenever you see a boy with a hat, you have to Beware the Hair. The hat could be hiding something awfully ugly. At least with the mesh trucker hat you can tell if he's balding or has dandruff or something. But I still don't like it!

Oh! Speaking of Ashton, there he is! Contrary's boy toy makes his way to our table. (Noooo it's not really Ashton Kutcher, but that's what his nickname is, so deal.) I turn to the other Law Boys hanging around us and try to figure out if we can guess what's in the girl's purse on the table. We come up with a list, and we're checking it twice when Contrary relates that Ashton has left the building. Did I pass out or something? He was just here…what the hell time is it, anyway?

Charlotte's husband taps me on the shoulder. "That's a really nice outfit you have on."

I flip my scarf over one shoulder and narrow my eyes. "Are you making fun of me?"

"It just would look better on my floor."

Damn! Caught me off guard! I spend the next three minutes trying to think up a good pick up line to come back with, but I lose the thread—whoa! Ankle Socks just opened his takeout and started eating a leftover chicken wing. UGOAS is sipping a Manhattan and looking on with disgust. At least he let go of her arm. He might have been thinking about eating her arm instead of the chicken wing—which will inevitably give him heartburn later. Hey UGOAS! No sex for you! Oh, well, maybe she didn't want any anyway.

Oh boy, it's Super Conservative Boy from the other night. Was that the last time we were here? Shit, I'm starting to lose track. SCB thinks it's really fun to annoy liberals like me and Contrary.

"Hey, what would it get to get you to vote for George Bush?" he asks.

"Hmmmm…a Mercedes, a $200,000 salary…" I begin. Obviously I can be easily bought.

"A lobotomy," Contrary puts in. Right on, girl!

SCB asks me what I'm writing. "Is it Chicken Soup for the Bar Goers Soul?"

Silly SCB. There is no soul for the bar patron! I pick up the thread of the bad pickup lines and lean over to Charlotte's Husband.

"Hey, you wanna get a pizza and fuck?"

He shakes his head.

"What, you don't like pizza?" I ask, and laugh at my joke. He and his friends are drinking from something Cricket's calls The Giraffe. My, what a big long shaft you have there. It's kind of intimidating.

Contrary points out a guy we've dubbed The Evil Professor. His goatee is sort of evilly pointed, like Satan. And he's wearing a maternity shirt, a la Sarah Jessica Parker in the third season of Sex and the City. Lucky for us, the bra is not showing.

"Who do you think is less hot?" she asks. "The Evil Professor or—"

"Horatio Sanz?" I ask, motioning to this guy at a table who is Horatio's doppelganger.

"Dude, that is EXACTLY who I was going to compare him to." We check both of them out and decide they are equally unattractive. The band is starting to hurt my head. No seriously, get off the Galactica train! I hate the 17-minute jam band song. It makes me want to die.

SCB has taken up residence next to me and his friend is leaning over his shoulder contributing his ideas to the Girl Purse Question. At least I think that's what he's doing when I hear him say:

"Either way, I'm for sex parties."

I think. As I repeat this, SCB's friend looks over at me and raises his eyebrows. SCB's roommate, Dr. Arrogance, looks over as well and raises his eyebrows. Then SCB turns to me and asks me to explain my statement.

Hmm. I guess it would be way to hard to explain that he's the one who said it? Speaking of the jackoff playlist? I think Dr. Arrogance just queued me up.

-Shakira 02.24.04