The Misadventures of John Hamm & Lemon - Part 2.

Hey, Duckies! I'm still in NYC, so John Hamm and Lemon took over my blog! Yesterday was just a preview of the ridiculousness that was to come into their lives... strap in, y'all. This ride is crazy. John Hamm: Welcome back, Ducklings! Welcome back to Hamm & Lemon’s Dance Fever! If you recall we were your intrepid hosts and damsels, and we are back again to bring you the second and final installment in our harrowing tale of late night drinking. We are armed with wine (again) and are prepared to let the weird train roll right along.

Lemon: Perhaps you remember when we last left you:

Picture 2

JH: Hereafter referred to as O’Generics.

L: We sat at O’Generics for quite a while without incident.

JH: We talked about love, life, philosophy...

L: Like ya do.

JH: But when we decided to move to the patio?

L: That’s when stuff started degenerating.

JH: It began innocuous enough. A bespectacled man offered to buy us shots. He shall be referred to herein as, simply, Bartender.

L: Because he was a bartender. And we are creative.

JH: We declined the shots, but continued on with some harmless bar-chat.

L: And then John Hamm went to the bathroom.

JH: Now, as far as women are concerned, bar trips can be summed up as the time your drinking companion takes bathroom breaks.

L: Bartender left us be to return to his group, John Hamm went to the bathroom, and I was briefly alone and all was well. That is, until John Hamm returned with ominous news.

JH: As I was exiting O’Generics with literally no avenue of escape who should stop me but Thing 1 and Thing 2. The conversation went something to the effect of:

Thing 1 - It’s you!

Me - Yeahhhhhhh...

Thing 1 - Mind if we come out and join you?

Me - Surrrrrrre...

L: We spend the next half-hour watching them unsubtly through the window to ensure they stayed at the bar.

JH: Perhaps our obvious discomfort finally dissuaded them, because they left again without accosting us any further. But the mystery of how they found us in the first place?

L: Remains unsolved. With Things 1 & 2 now dispatched with, we dared to think we were safe. But no.

JH: Enter Baby Alan Moore.

L: So named here for his prominent beard. Basically, picture a younger version of this:

Picture 1


Now picture it in a NASA t-shirt.




Now we can continue.

JH: Baby Alan Moore engaged us on our tastes in music.

L: Unfortunate for him, we can both be infuriatingly difficult when asked about music taste.

JH: We are not picky.

L: We have almost zero discernment. We listen to anything.

JH: And everything.

L: When confronted with our non-committal responses, Baby Alan Moore responded by giving us a handful of quarters, and telling us to play the jukebox.

JH: Ultimately, our selections pleased him.

L: And then he vanished. Don’t worry, he will return.

JH: Then came Lemon’s turn for a bathroom break.

L: Cue the awkwardness in 3, 2, 1...

JH: With almost supernatural timing and prescience, Bartender reappeared and asked me out. This is a good time to mention how awkward I am in these situations.

L: Just for clarification: how awkward we both are, especially considering I am very much married.

JH: This is true. Now, Ducklings, remember Emelie’s guest post about how to charmingly stop people from hitting on you? Well I only wish I could be that suave. Instead, I stutter and dance around the turning-down part of the process. I will make the point too that I can’t bring myself to say “yes” to those who ask women out in bars.

L: That is just a pro-tip... for life.

JH: Anyway, by the time Lemon got back, I had sidled awkwardly away from Bartender. It was weird, yes. But I thought I’d made it work.

L: That assumption would prove wrong. I kicked him out of my chair. He offered again to buy us shots.

JH: Which we again declined.

L: We told him we were leaving.

JH: Which, to be fair, we had every intention of doing!

L: And almost did!

JH: We say “almost” because we proceeded to stand by my car for another 45 minutes.

L: The whole pesky love, life, philosophy, etc...

JH: Re-enter Baby Alan Moore.

L: He awkwardly approached and began faltering speech. Something akin to: “I just want to tell you ladies... Well, you are very well-dressed. You’re very put-together. And I just want to tell you... I just want to tell you that... you’re women, yes... but you are also goddesses.”

**momentary stunned silence**

JH: Frankly, we were at quite a loss for the proper response.

L: We couldn’t exactly leave. Leaving would be nothing less than right then getting in the car and accelerating out of the parking lot.

JH: After further faltering speech, and its accompanying awkwardness, he finally dismissed himself.

L: And skipped away.

JH: Yes, skipped.

L: Seriously. He literally skipped.

JH: In hindsight, it is probably our own fault that we didn’t leave then.

L: But we didn’t.

JH: No, Ducklings, we stayed and kept talking by the car.

L: Love, life, philosophy...

JH: Etc...

L: Re-enter Bartender: “I thought you guys were leaving!”

JH: Nope. We were still there.

L: Cue the three of us sitting on the ground. In the parking lot. By John Hamm’s car. With Bartender still trying to get with John Hamm. There was light leering.

JH: Yeahh...

L: Bartender’s tactic was a strange one to listen to. Essentially, every thing John Hamm said, he agreed with in the most general of responses.

JH: Yeahhh..

L: And then John Hamm went to the bathroom.

JH: Yeah...

L: What follows is an approximate replay of my conversation with Bartender:

Bartender - So what do you do?

Me - Not much. I’m rather boring.

Bartender - So what are you? Single? Dating? Married?

Me - I’m married.

Bartender - Do you like being married?

Me - ... ... ... ... Yes.

Bartender - So why is it boring? You saying you’re bored being married?

Me - ... ... ... ... No. I meant I’m not usually out. I’m usually at home playing video games or watching movies or tv.

 **weird silence**

JH: I returned to the car, and we gave in and ended up back on the patio.

L: Enter Purple Beard.

JH: Purple Beard’s story, in the capacity that we knew him, isn’t long or complicated.

L: He really did have a long, purple beard.

JH: Which he paints with. That is his story.

L: Bartender leered at John Hamm some more, finally talked her into a shot, and continued his efforts to try and get a date with her/take her home.

JH: To no effect.

L: It tapered off from there.

JH: We truly did leave.

L: Got in our cars safely. Drove home safely.

JH: And so concludes our saga.

L: I do not think either of us will be returning to O’Generics anytime soon.

JH: Perhaps some self-esteem was gained, but at what cost?


We imagine a comic book universe where Clark Kent really does work in a fancy restaurant, and does his good deeds for cigarettes and whiskey.