The Inherent Danger of Exotic Fruit
by Jessica Lohafer
Oh, spring fever, you are upon us.
Yes, it is June. But here in Bellingham, this month is nothing more than the cruel tease of summer. The sun is out long enough to convince you it’s swimming weather, but is gone before you’ve so much as put one vitamin D deprived limb in the water. The women in my town remain both hopeful and obstinate, banishing leggings and tights from their wardrobes and bringing out short shorts far too early. The theory is that you can convince the season to change, if you are perpetually ready for the next season.
Here’s the other problem with spring fever: I have a crush on every boy. Of course, by I, I really mean we, and by boy, I mean whomever you might have a crush on. Clearly, this is not a time for red flag dating. The guidelines are simple; if you see any red flags, you leave. For example, you’re having dinner with someone and they casually mention that they voted for Bush both times. Red flag. Get up and go. Of course, everyone’s red flags are different. Theoretically, when you meet someone with these tendencies, you would call it quits right there, without getting involved. Doesn’t that sound mature? Sensible, even? Be warned, spring fever has a complete disregard for your responsible inclinations. There are sunsets to reckon with. Sangria comes back into play. Sure, this guy is super homophobic, but he has a boat! And you can reach him, change his mind, probably, by making out with him! Right?
Best to take up a lot of hobbies. And since you’ll need something to distract you from poor decision making, how about coming to my show this Thursday? I promise, I did write something on my residency, though I might not be able to write again until September. The show is at the Honey Moon and it’s called Thirty Days in the Wilderness. Troi Gale will be opening it up and I will be accompanied by the incredible Sarah Goodin. It starts at 8:30. There’s a patio, and mead, and maybe there will even be a spell of warm weather. Come and make some good decisions. Or bad ones. Either way, you know I won’t be the one to judge you.