A couple nights ago, I was watching some of a friend’s short films on YouTube (you should check out Hyperphotonic here – they do cool work). One of them had just started when I saw the lead actor, froze, and said – out loud, to no one but myself (and my dogs) – “Hey! Screwdriver Guy!”
I knew this guy in university during my undergrad. I wouldn’t call us friends – we were acquaintances, and we had a mutual friend. In fact, I’m pretty sure the guy was interested in our mutual friend (which makes perfect sense, because she is a tall, gorgeous blonde with a huge smile and legs that go on forever).
SIDENOTE: It sounds like I have a crush on her.
SIDENOTE TO THE SIDENOTE: I basically do.
Anyway, one night we were both at the theatre on campus to see the same play, so we ended up sort of hanging out for the first time, and by some series of circumstances, he offered me a ride home. At least I think that’s how it went. We could have also been leaving the class we were in together. To be honest, I don’t remember which class it was. (It sounds like I was a party animal in university. I was actually just in too many classes and working too many hours on the side.)
Remember Nick’s car, Yugo, from Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist?
This guy’s car was the white version of Yugo. It was old and beaten up. The doors didn’t open properly. Inside it was messy and full of the guy’s “life.”
(I feel like you all know what I mean – all our cars are a disaster, right? Because I’m pretty sure up until like, two nights ago when I had my car professionally cleaned (Fancy! And soooo worh it! Thanks, Groupon!*), I had an empty suitcase in my trunk that I lent to a friend for CHRISTMAS holidays and some props from a play I produced TWO YEARS AGO.)
So I get in and sit down, and he sits down next to me and puts the key into the ignition. Only instead of turning the key, he just leaves it there for a second. Then he says, “Excuse my reach,” flips open the glove compartment, and starts rifling through it, clearly looking for something specific.
It is at this point that I realize he hasn’t closed his door.
What the heck?
He pulls out a screwdriver.
“Sometimes I just need to…” he says as he pops the hood, gets out of the car, disappears from my sight for a second, and messes around with the screwdriver.
Then he sits back down, turns the key, and the car starts up.
“Perfect. Okay, so where do you live?”
We never hung out again after that day – not because of the screwdriver,** just because of life circumstances and the fact that we were, as I mentioned, acquaintances and not friends. So since that day, he has been living in my mind as “Screwdriver Guy.” (I actually forgot his real name until I saw it in the film credits.)
I met my friend Karly (I have no idea if Karly reads my blog – what up, girl?!***) back in 2005 when we worked at a bookstore together.
SIDENOTE: I’ve totally blogged about Karly before! Check it out! Wow. Keeping track of a 365-day blog is hard work.
We had been friends for a couple of years when we spent Halloween together. I’ll never forget that night because I was wearing a corset so that was the night I learned just how difficult it can be to function in a corset. (I should blog about that. I should also totally get a corset again. I fucking love corsets.) I don’t know what I was dressed up as. I was wearing a corset and a top hat. I had a very 1920s haircut at the time. Maybe I just thought I was Liza Minnelli.
It doesn’t matter what I was dressed up as, because Karly needed a costume, so she came over and we created a makeshift costume with what I had in my room. She was wearing all black, so I lent her a pair of cat ears, helped her with some makeup, and she was a cat. For the record, she looked adorable.
It just so happened that that was also the night that Karly met my brother, Bryan. And it just so happened that he never (I believe?) met Karly in person again because he moved to Vancouver shortly thereafter.
Look, what I’m trying to say is that when I talk about Karly to my brother, it goes one of two ways.
ANDREA: I was talking to my friend Karly…
BRYAN: The cat?
ANDREA: Yes, the cat.
ANDREA: So I was talking to my friend Karly…
ANDREA: The cat?
BRYAN: Oh! Karly. Yeah, cool.
Long story short (except not at all, right?), those are just two of many occasions I’ve learned that first impressions really do stick. And if they’re the only impression you get to give a person, I guess they could be either really damaging, or really hilarious.
Can’t talk, I am now wondering which “Girl” I am to people.
*I did not get paid to write that. I fucking wish.
**On the contrary, I do this weird thing where I find old, beaten up cars to be super charming. Does everyone do that? Like, it’s somehow cute and cool to have a terrible wreck of a car? Even though it’s totally not because in real life you just end up sinking all your money into it? Maybe it’s just me. (I know it’s not. Just look at Nick and Norah’s and like, every other movie ever.)
***Am I cool enough to pull that off? I do actually say it sometimes. Should I have admitted to that?