You’re going to need a little background for this one.
First, time-warp back to early March 2003: Mandatory Cheese Sandwich Entry Part One and Mandatory Cheese Sandwich Entry Part Two. Note the “Cute Girl”, whom I shall call “Kimberly” (not her real name) for the sake of simplicity.
The next relevant bit of back story is in the entry titled Last Night, a little later that month, which features Kimberly again:
9:00 p.m. – A Chinese restaurant
The fortune cookies are on my side tonight.
My cookie: You will soon be rewarded handsomely for your effort and talent.
Her cookie: A man is a volume if you learn to read him.
9:20 p.m. – Corner of Bay and College Streets
The cookies lied!
“A” for effort, “D minus” for outcome. Sometimes looks, brains,
charm, incredible luck and accordion power just aren’t enough. These
But dammit, I thought the cookies were going to push me over the top.
That one hurt quite a bit, and that’s probably why my “people
radar” wasn’t working properly the following weekend, when I hooked up
with this sort-of-goth girl, which ended up being an even bigger fiasco.
Ever since then, I’ve had to fight down a sense of annoyance whenever
Kimberly’s around. I know it’s not her fault, but I can’t help
feeling annoyed just the same.
(A little aside: The entry prior to Last Night is Doc Searls Comes to Accordion City. If I’d never gone to that little get-together, I’d never have met Boss Ross and would never have been offered the current job. It was a life-changing couple of weeks.)
Last night at Kickass Karaoke, I walked in to find Kinberly there. This is unusual — I’ve never seen her at Kickass Karaoke.
That’s when I noticed the second unusual thing: the new guy she had in
tow. He was about 5’11”, Asian, with a goatee and long sideburns. You’d
never mistake us for twins, but wow, did we come from the same style archetype.
Eldon walked up to me and said “He’s wearing the same colour
shirt you are, too.” I looked down, looked at my “clone” and had to
“This gives the term ‘cheap Asian knockoff’ a whole new meaning,” I said. “It’s like passing over a Lexus for a Hyundai.”
“Ah, don’t you worry,” he said consolingly, “he’s all Asian and no accordion.”
I guess I should be flattered.