Ian’s idea for an episode

I have about 6-10 easy three-step dinners I have perfected which won’t shorten my lifespan. Minimal chopping, throw it all into a pan or casserole dish, heat, serve. I knew all day that there was nothing to eat in my apartment, but I could pretend this wasn’t the case until I opened up the refrigerator and saw what was left. Geoff does most of the grocery shopping so everything is locally and sustainably harvested. He tends to select strange looking heirloom varieties of produce. The radishes are 4 inches long and a half inch wite, the tomatoes look like bell peppers, the bell peppers are $4 each so we never buy them, and everything spoils in less than 10 days. As I close the refrigerator, Geoff starts rationalizing “Well unlike the nationally distributed produce at large supermarkets, local produce is bred for flavor and nutritional value and not for whether it can be shipped across the country before spoiling.” Not that I’ve ever questioned the value of his philosophy, or talked loudly about how annoying it is on the phone while he’s downstairs, nor have I even once passive aggressively allowed the refrigerator door to slam by its own inertia. Then again, I don’t think I’m the one he’s explaining this to. The only food in the pantry is a box of “Natural Selections” 13-grain cereal and a carton of almond milk. We look at each other and he says, “I don’t feel any shame admitting that we’re past the ‘cereal for dinner’ point in our lives, but I don’t feel like grocery shopping.” “We’re 22 and living in an apartment less than fifteen minutes from where we went to college. Our parents no longer pay our credit card bills. We are precisely at that point in our lives, dude.” Geoff inhales ambitiously but I cut him off, “It’s fucking Saturday. Let’s just crash some undergrad parties and steal their food.” I say this as though it’s a pastime we share, but I’ve never even spoken those words out loud before. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do that, but it fits neatly into that “living life to its fullest every moment” Volkswagen commercial ideology that causes Geoff to consistently make poor decisions. Now that I suggested this path, I couldn’t convince Geoff out of it without coming up with an even more irritatingly inconvenient idea that I won’t regret participating in after it is done but I lack the foresight to know this at decision-making time.

The two party scenes I already wrote are listed below. They are close to “stage-ready” but could use some work.  One is fairly normal party where the highlight is when the main characters are blowing goldfish crackers at one another.  The other is a pretentious spoiled musical theater / artist party that is very specific, but I think everybody can relate somewhat.

Kensington Drive runs adjacent to Drury St. and Manchester Ave, and that 5-way intersection is where you find the bars and late night junk food. Kensington eventually runs through the middle of the campus and it is entirely residential. The police cruise around either end of the road to snag drunk drivers, but rarely disrupt the parties. Parked cautiously far from any light source, we couldn’t look any more suspicious without whistling with our hands in our pockets. We follow the noise and push our way tight-lipped through a pulsing thumping living room full of attractive people who won’t let go of the conversation-friendly formation forged before the iPod was plugged into the speakers. “A good easy first crash” I thought as I followed somebody carrying empty bottles to the cooler full of beer and a three foot wide plastic bowl of pizza flavored Goldfish snacks that appear to be shivering on a rattling glass table with a chip off one corner. Geoff is respectfully taking the roundabout way, but I am barely chewing handful after handful. I wait for him to approach and then stuff my mouth so I can blow shards of cracker at him as I say, “Great fuckin’ party!” He chuckles but the previously unseen dude he was talking to clinches his eyebrows at me. I reach slightly towards him as though to brush him off even though nothing landed on him as I explain, “Shit, sorry! I mean, I did intentionally blow crackers but I was totally kidding, y’know?” His lack of discernible neck gives the impression of perpetual shrugging, but he pumps his shoulders up anyway and says “OK” while looking angry and walking past me. I yell into Geoff’s ear, “He seemed nice…” “I guess some people don’t like having crackers blown on them, even if it’s ironic.” Somehow Geoff can deadpan even when music is way louder than his voice. Cheap beer, lame snack food, and humorless people. This neighborhood was full of alternatives, so we bolted.

I noticed some expensive outfits speaking loudly yet with very proper diction, clear pronunciation, and great consideration of every emphasized syllable. Actors? Music majors? Rich parents either way. Unfortunately a bit more organized, but at least we are dressed the part. We follow two well fed men in immaculate black pea-coats through the gate to the back yard. Oblivious to our presence they slide shut the glass door to the living room, and we see burbury scarves flourish onto the coat couch as we open bottles of a fine German import and exaggerate the hell out of whatever we’re saying next to the firepit. Musical theater party. I said to Geoff, “I’ll say I’m here with Sara and you say you’re here with me, then start complimenting things before they ask any questions. Your typical musical theater major is more insecure than an anorexic with barbecue sauce stuck to their cheek at a high school reunion.” This wasn’t really my plan, but I dated a musical theater major last year and maybe I’m still a little bitter. We follow a large group of people in and start a new coat pile. I threw my coat down and ran into the kitchen with a bright smile and said hi to three people. In retrospect this was a good tactic because it would seem that I was excited to be at a party with people I know, but my behavior was less tactical and more of a sincere reaction to the food table. Gourmet cheese, white bean dip, sopressata…

That’s where I left off.  Here are a bunch of sentences that were at the end, some are ideas or themes, others are possible quotes to include in other scenes.  Not sure really, wrote it a while ago.

We were caught. They seemed to want us to stay just so they have somebody to hate more than each other and more worthy of derision than themselves.

They’d all rather be listening to Sublime in somebody’s garage

“I hate it when a girl takes me back to her place for sex and her place isn’t organized!”

“Have you ever let a girl pee on you? It really makes you appreciate the whole of a girl’s anatomy, really gives you a grander perspective on it. I think every man who calls himself heterosexual should have this illuminating experience.”

“This has been a real learning experience for me. I realize it hasn’t exactly been a picnic for you, but maybe you can appreciate the fact that I most likely won’t do this again.”


About stationaryhobo

Stationary Hobo is getting ready for Mayan Y2K.
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One Response to Ian’s idea for an episode

  1. I’ll discuss this tonight, but here are some suggestions considering the character descriptions:

    The whole “party hopping for food” thing is Donnie’s idea. Walter tags along with veiled reluctance and an aloof curiosity. He is reluctant to leave some of or all of the parties because he ends up engrossed in some meaningful dialog with drunks or whatever. Lily is kinda bossed around by Donnie, who gives her these elaborate rolls in unnecessarily complex schemes to get into these parties. Freeda is ok with being a “freegan” at first, but then she starts noticing that most of the food is against her principles, and starts asking questions about the food at the parties, even though she is a stranger who is freeloading. Freeda’s behavior eventually gets them caught. The end up at CostCo, the epitome of what Freeda is against, and she is either pissed or in the parking lot confronting people.

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