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Description
This was part of a livejournal post I made as such it should include the text of the post as well:

After Bosma finished working on my car he conceded and let me buy him lunch. I wanted to pay considerably more than the price of a simple meal, even if I couldn’t afford it. As it stood, total repairs to my car amounted to fifteen dollars and change, along with the distinction of owning only the second “Bosma Custom Exhaust System” in existence. If I went to a shop instead, the tone and tenor of this post would be markedly different.

Bosma opted for a visit to Bill Bateman’s Bistro in Severna Park. By that point my head ached, but I was determined to see this through.

While sitting down, conversation shifted to Brad’s old girlfriends. This used to find its way into many such discussions, but we’d rarely brought it up in the past few years.

Sam Adams did it.

“You know she got married? That crazy bitch,” Bosma started with raised eyebrows.

It took me a good couple seconds to pull out an image of Sam from memory. I could only ask, “Why?” and then “How?” and finally “But who would marry her?”

“I don’t know. But do you remember when she put her dog on Brad?”

“No, I don’t remember that.”

“She called him up and was like ‘Come on over’, and gave him these real specific directions. He had to sneak around the back, and climb over the fence and the climb up to her window on the second floor.

“And he’s like ‘Okay’ and he drives over there and hops the fence, and right there is this big fucking dog.”

“Oh yeah…”

“And he had to run back to his car as fast as he could to keep from being mauled.”

“Right, yeah.”

“And he calls her up and’s like what the hell happened?” He pointed his cigarette at me and spoke slowly through a wide grin. “She says to him, ‘I just wanted to see if you’d do it!’ Now I heard that and I thought he was shitting me, but I ran into this girl who was a friend of Sam’s back then. I told her the story and she’s like ‘I know that dog.’ And I’m ‘ooh’”

I laughed. Good times. “She was crazy.”

“All of his girlfriends were like that.”

“Not all of them.” I tried to think of one in particular, a Japanese girl Brad dated in High School, but her name refused to materialize.

“What about the one from Texas?”

“Hmm?”

“You know, with short hair?”

“Oh yeah… Julie.”

“She was kinda…” he winced and reclined back, content to exchange a loaded smile for spoken description.

“What, Julie? No. She was normal, I sorta rubbed her the wrong way when we finally met..”

“How so?”

“Oh, well this is way back, when we were helping you run sound down in Annapolis for some local band. She came with Brad to help out and I recommended going to Chick and Ruth’s for some dinner before the show started. When we got our food, and were sitting down to eat, we ended up getting in an argument… No, no… wait, a disagreement… you know what I mean? Like a disagreement during a friendly conversation. You know?”

“Sure.”

“Right. We’ll we’re disagreeing and I just go…

(See the above image)

“'You’re cut out of the conversation’ and every time she’d try to speak I’d say: ‘I’m sorry, nothing I can do, but you’re out. Maybe the conversation will come back around to you later.’ I thought I was being funny, but she really took offence. Brad thought it was awesome. He told me he’d never seen anything like that.”

Bosma paused to drag off his cigarette. He lent forward and spoke at a very natural pace. “You were much more of an asshole back then.”

It took me another five hours before I realized that perhaps such a statement could be construed as ‘positive.’

Description
This was part of a livejournal post I made as such it should include the text of the post as well:

After Bosma finished working on my car he conceded and let me buy him lunch. I wanted to pay considerably more than the price of a simple meal, even if I couldn’t afford it. As it stood, total repairs to my car amounted to fifteen dollars and change, along with the distinction of owning only the second “Bosma Custom Exhaust System” in existence. If I went to a shop instead, the tone and tenor of this post would be markedly different.

Bosma opted for a visit to Bill Bateman’s Bistro in Severna Park. By that point my head ached, but I was determined to see this through.

While sitting down, conversation shifted to Brad’s old girlfriends. This used to find its way into many such discussions, but we’d rarely brought it up in the past few years.

Sam Adams did it.

“You know she got married? That crazy bitch,” Bosma started with raised eyebrows.

It took me a good couple seconds to pull out an image of Sam from memory. I could only ask, “Why?” and then “How?” and finally “But who would marry her?”

“I don’t know. But do you remember when she put her dog on Brad?”

“No, I don’t remember that.”

“She called him up and was like ‘Come on over’, and gave him these real specific directions. He had to sneak around the back, and climb over the fence and the climb up to her window on the second floor.

“And he’s like ‘Okay’ and he drives over there and hops the fence, and right there is this big fucking dog.”

“Oh yeah…”

“And he had to run back to his car as fast as he could to keep from being mauled.”

“Right, yeah.”

“And he calls her up and’s like what the hell happened?” He pointed his cigarette at me and spoke slowly through a wide grin. “She says to him, ‘I just wanted to see if you’d do it!’ Now I heard that and I thought he was shitting me, but I ran into this girl who was a friend of Sam’s back then. I told her the story and she’s like ‘I know that dog.’ And I’m ‘ooh’”

I laughed. Good times. “She was crazy.”

“All of his girlfriends were like that.”

“Not all of them.” I tried to think of one in particular, a Japanese girl Brad dated in High School, but her name refused to materialize.

“What about the one from Texas?”

“Hmm?”

“You know, with short hair?”

“Oh yeah… Julie.”

“She was kinda…” he winced and reclined back, content to exchange a loaded smile for spoken description.

“What, Julie? No. She was normal, I sorta rubbed her the wrong way when we finally met..”

“How so?”

“Oh, well this is way back, when we were helping you run sound down in Annapolis for some local band. She came with Brad to help out and I recommended going to Chick and Ruth’s for some dinner before the show started. When we got our food, and were sitting down to eat, we ended up getting in an argument… No, no… wait, a disagreement… you know what I mean? Like a disagreement during a friendly conversation. You know?”

“Sure.”

“Right. We’ll we’re disagreeing and I just go…

(See the above image)

“'You’re cut out of the conversation’ and every time she’d try to speak I’d say: ‘I’m sorry, nothing I can do, but you’re out. Maybe the conversation will come back around to you later.’ I thought I was being funny, but she really took offence. Brad thought it was awesome. He told me he’d never seen anything like that.”

Bosma paused to drag off his cigarette. He lent forward and spoke at a very natural pace. “You were much more of an asshole back then.”

It took me another five hours before I realized that perhaps such a statement could be construed as ‘positive.’