The day: Friday
The location: Bodega
Enter Gojira, direct to pet aisle, grabs cat food triumphantly. (Ran out two days ago and feline has been subsisting on assorted crumbs while Gojira goes to parties at Barneys and generally acts like Dina Lohan while reminding feline about that cat who survived 34 days in a shipping container without any food.)
Frat boy: Are you buying cat food?
Gojira (triumphantly): Yes! On a Friday night!
Frat boy: Don’t be embarrassed.
Gojira: [Not bothering to point out I’ve got a bottle of rosé prosecco in one hand, one in my belly, and it’s 3am. If this is a cliché, you wish you were this cliché.]
Gojira trots off merrily through frat-pack-filled Lower East Side hellscape. Plastic bag cracks, rosé drops dramatically to the ground in the middle of the road, frat boys gasp, rosé bottle did not break. Gojira grabs bottle by the neck (triumphantly!), goes home, feeds cat.