Date Lab: Can an LNSer and a Hipster Get Over Themselves?
8 p.m., Cactus Cantina, Glover Park
LNSer: I didn’t want to be the first one there, so I took a long time picking out my shoes—the boats or the floppers? I went with the boats and was a half-hour late. Of course Hipster was even later. Probably couldn’t decide on an ironic T-shirt.
Hipster: I went with a T-shirt for the date. I mean, I think "Pork Chop Sandwiches" pretty much sums up how I feel about being made to go to effing Glover Park. I hope we see Tucker Carlson.
LNSer: To be honest, she was cute. She had Brenda’s body, but Kelly’s eyes, and not a touch of Donna.
Hipster: Winston was hanging out by the tortilla machine. I think he asked the woman churning them out if she could come over and clean his condo on the weekends. But, seriously? I kind of dug his shoes. My last boyfriend had dress Chucks. The left one only had one hole.
LNSer: She said she likes whiskey. I usually go with an RBV. In the interest of compromise, we ordered two pitchers of margaritas. The small talk was pretty lame until we figured out we both secretly love Dawson’s Creek. I’ve decided she’s more Jen than Joey.
Hipster: He works on the Hill, of course. It turns out, I was just there. But when he started talking about his job with “The Senator,” I poured myself another margarita. And then another. And then he brought up Hillary.
LNSer: I should have known better than to get into politics with Jen/Brenda. I mean, Hillary is a fat cow. She’s at least a size 12. How could any chick with thick ankles seriously think she can be president?
Hipster: I asked him if he wanted to go to my place and fuck.
LNSer: We went to Pound Town.
UPDATE: “I invited her to become a member of LNS. Now when I see her at the Deck, she won’t give me the time of day. Bitch set me up,” LNSer says.