VANCOUVER - BRONX CHEER PLLLLLUPPPH

Remember the hipster grifter, who we accidentally hired, who tried to use her status to con people and stuff? Well, I'm not ashamed to admit that I do a similar sort of thing. Like a ponytailed poetry professor that hits on his students over a glass of chardonnay and a personal, one-on-one critique? I'm kind of like that, only I pick cherub-faced, ambitious boys and tell them I'm going to do a story about them.

Which is what happened the first time I saw Craig Anderson perform. I suggested we do an interview at my  apartment. He was totally game. Great, I thought. I got myself a hot date! What else would it be? He’s a hot guy and I’m a relatively attractive girl and we were going to be alone in my apartment, spending time together. That’s a date if I’d ever heard of one. It seems pretty obvious to me.

For our date, I imagined Craig coming over with his guitar. We'd write a funny song together. Craig writes funny songs. I know that because I researched him online. Our song would be about how hot we were for each other.

The day before our date I spent a lot of time thinking about Craig's soft hair and how nice he seems and how his eyes are sort of spaced far apart, all relaxed and smiling. But then I started thinking about how the last time I got excited about a guy I ended up going crazy and having to go to the brain doctor to get assessed. Evidently I have a mood disorder, triggered by endorphins and weed. By the time I was diagnosed it was too late: the guy I went nuts for cut all contact with me. Apparently he didn’t agree that our love was bigger than us, something otherworldly that the universe had made happen for a reason, and that that reason was to make genius literature together and eventually we’d have a happy life, which would include one child, a place in New York, and another on Bowen Island.

I certainly didn’t want to screw things up like that again. Especially not with Craig. Then I spent a lot of time thinking about that, which then led to a panic attack, which then led to “an episode.”  Have you had an episode? I stay up until the birds are chirpy outside my window and think about 30,000 thoughts, one after another after another or all at once: I can't tell. Sometimes these thoughts are so brilliant that I have to get up from bed to write them down. Things like: I haven’t been to a bad party for a long time. Whoa! and I hang out with younger people because they make me feel more youthful. Am I old? Really genius stuff.

The day of the date I was in rough shape. I had spent the whole night and early morning getting up from my bed, walking over to my desk, writing down my genius ideas, and getting back into bed. The thought of seeing Craig and writing our love song together was the only thing that kept me going, but then I realized that was a lot of pressure for our first date. When Craig called to say he was a block away, I had to take deep breaths. When I heard the knock on the door, I almost threw up. I came to my door and there he was. But he wasn’t alone. Turns out there are two guys in his comedy duo thingy, Bronx Cheer. I think the other dude’s name is Conor.

So here were two attractive fellows, one of which I really wanted to like me, in my apartment, waiting to be interviewed.  I started to have a full on panic attack. I tried to act normal. Have you tried that before? It’s hard. Because basically I talked really slow (there were seven second gaps between every word that came out of my mouth) and it was hard to concentrate because my heart was beating so loud in my ear that I had a hard time hearing anything else.

I invited them in and tried to stall. I really didn’t have a Plan B. So much for our love song, I thought. I asked them if they wanted water. No. Tea? No thank you. Raspberries? Are you sure you don't want raspberries?! Blueberries? Homemade cream cheese and guacamole that was made with an unripened avocado? 

I told them I had an angle for an article but I couldn’t really use it now. Conor asked why. ‘Cause you’re here, I thought, and imagined steam coming out of my ears. Then we were silent. Then we talked about cars for about 16 minutes. That was Conor’s idea. I guess he’s into cars, but I’m not sure because I didn’t ask. I couldn't breathe. Finally, I told them it wasn’t going to happen and ushered them out of my apartment. They looked really puzzled.

As they were leaving, I tried to make eye contact with Craig. He seemed uncomfortable. My dreams, our dreams, dissolved. That was it for me and Craig and our good life together. Goodbye, Craig. I'll miss you.

ELIANNA LEV
PHOTO: JODY ROGAC

Comments

[cranny]

Are you SURE you don't want any raspberries?

[trucker rat]

hey, do u masturbate at night?

[Matthew]

Please don't tell me you served that stale guacamole you tried to pawn off on me?

Men like cookies. Hand-jobs before Babies Crazy bitch!

ha! I almost peed myself your so wrong

[Fuck Russia]

I don't call staying up until the birds are chirping "having an episode," I call it doing coke too late into the night.

[tbag]

aww. this is funny, in a sad sort of way

[simple common sense]

i have had many episodes, but it is always due to partying far too much and then not sleeping for a couple of days. looks to me like you blew this one as soon as it started. good work.

[@matthew]

I disagree. I find that men usually dont like cookies..

[what happened?]

i bet bronx cheer are pretty stoked about this interview.

[snap happy]

was the picture taken in your appartment? they dont look to impressed with what is going on. ha

[Matthew]

@fuckrussia your a cokehead stop projecting

Eli doesn't blow coke though i bet it would even her out....

and men love women who offer sweets...even if they don't eat them. stay away from gay fruits

[Matthew]

I meant Elly

[Natalie]

Hilarious! Love it.

[Matthew]

Sorry. ELLY

[p.snugglesworth]

if a man don't wanna eat yo cookies it because they taste like shit.

[fatty]

Conor is rude, he should take his fucking feet off the table.

[Balls]

You should have had a three way. Lay off the pot.

[blow Conor]

Conor would fuck you better

[john]

I always wondered what happened to Angela Chase

[ali girl]

this article made me laugh.
i love you elly.
ur famous.

[the real conor]

conor is a real sweet lay

[flying high]

Should have had a 3-some.

[blow Conor]

l

[angela]

conor really is a sweet lay... really sweet

[Jayne]

This is the worst supposed interview / article I've ever read. You don't even mention their comedy. What a waste. No wonder Craig doesn't like you.

[Matt Day]

Elly, you are a class act.