Yelp: Nouveau Yuppie Does The Scoot Inn

29 07 2008

We have been kind of addicted to Yelp since we ran into another person who claims that this is the greatest place on earth, and it actully might be. So reading this review of the Scoot Inn on Yelp made me really laugh out loud. We just attended our first Second Sunday Sock Hop and we didn’t get asked for drugs so we are assuming that we are totally uncool. I guess they realized that we have an entire closet for recycling and that our cats eat better than us too. Maybe next time.

Chewy C. on Yelp writes:

You know, I’ve known for a while that I’ve slowly been turning into a nouveau yuppie. I shop at Whole Foods. My boyfriend and I have a cute house on the east side. Our dogs eat better than most of the free world.

Ya, we’re totally trying to play it cool, but yuppiedom is hurtling toward us at the speed of light.

I mean, we’re trying to be “good” yuppies, though. You know, we’re converting our diesel Scout to run on veggie oil. We never use plastic bags. Fuck, we just ordered a second recycling bin–that should count for something!!

But, as much as we’ve been struggling with this blissful domestic path to Yuppieville, nothing could have prepared us for the all-out assault on our sense of cool that happened at the Scoot Inn about two weeks ago.

It was the Second Sunday Sock Hop. Our friends were visiting from NYC for SXSW and we’re twisting the night away on the outdoor patio.

Some cute little hipster gal dancing next to me points to her wrist and asks me, “Excuse me, do you have a dime?”

Huh? Do I have a dime? “No, sorry, I don’t have any change,” I say,
confusedly patting my pockets.

No, no, she says, “Do you have a dime?” again, pointing at her wrist.

Huh? No, sorry. Do you want the time? I pull out my pretentious
iPhone, “see, look, it’s 1:07 AM.”

Growing aggravated, she repeats, “NO!! DO YOU HAVE A DIME?!”

Huh? What? At this point, my boyfriend chimes in and we’re both
like, “No, sorry! We promise we don’t have any change!”

Looking at us like we’re the daftest people on earth, she practically
yells, “No! It has a DIFFERENT meaning!”

Ohhhh!!! You’re talking about drugs! Oh!! Duh! My boyfriend and I fumble. Shit! Drugs?! Do we have any drugs?

Remember those drugs we used to have? Like, ten years ago? Ya, THAT’S what she’s talking about!

Finally, we figure things out and manage to tell her, no, in fact, we do not have any drugs although we’re pretty sure she’s figured that shit out by now.

God. We suck. We’re so uncool. We slink away and despair “WTF happened to us?!”

We console ourselves by saying that at least we still look cool enough to do drugs. We dance. We tell our friends. They laugh themselves silly.

But, we’re still feeling unsettled. I mean, Jesus, we used to do MOUNTAINS of drugs! Tugboats filled with drugs! More drugs than is healthy! Between the two of us, we want to tell her we’ve probably done more drugs than everyone here!

We try to let it go. We dance. We laugh. We drink. But all I really wanted to do was go up to that hipster and be like, “WHO THE FUCK BUYS A DIME OF DRUGS ANYWAY?!?!”

We decide next time we’re just going to pull out a pair of handcuffs from my purse and pretend that we’re undercover agents:

“I GOT YOUR DIMEBAG RIGHT HERE, LADY!!!”

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