CURIOSITY 01: I Got Defenestrated In Prague And All I Got Was Defenestrated In Prague

our heroine invents a substance, complains, gets red light therapy, and discovers a new life goal.

Item one: JUICE

I’ve noticed that—despite my best efforts to wake up at 9am—I’m basically incapable of hauling myself out of bed any earlier than noon. This makes me feel Weak, and Impotent. So I went to the coffeeshop and got my grabbers on some Turbo juice (mostly-flavorless liquid caffeine, 100mg to an ounce), which is now sitting in a Lord Byron shot glass on my bedside table. I’m going to slam it the second I wake up tomorrow, then eat a protein-rich breakfast, then walk to Hartford and beat Ned Lamont in a harmonica contest so I can take my rightful place as the megalomaniacal She-Prince of the Nutmeg empire. Curry favor with me now. 

The Turbo Juice is one of my favorite things about working at the coffee shop. It’s just such an evil thing to have. A while ago I pitched a new menu item called “crazy water”(tap water with a shot of turbo in it) to my boss, who seemed intrigued but still did not deign to put it on the menu. FOR SHAME. It’s literally just a glass of water that tastes a bit worse. I don’t see what the problem is! 

Item two: THIS FUCKING TWEET 

Alright let’s break this down. First, why’s that on a shirt. Second, the real quote is “I’m just a little behind you, close enough to take your hand. This old body has given up, just as yours has too.” You call yourself an aestheticposter and you misquote Leonard Cohen? You talk of nothing but cigarettes and yet you misquote Leonard Cohen? Christ this country is going to the dogs. Third, someone in the replies said “and he’s literally still alive, all men do is lie.” I read that reply over the phone to Grace while she was changing her tire in the rain and she started laughing so hard she almost dropped her wrench, because LEONARD COHEN IS DEAD.¹

Item three: THE METAPHYSICAL REALM

There’s a woman who comes to the cafe a lot. Her name is Sam. She has pink bangs and works at the crystal shop². She’s very cool. Today, she was telling me I should drop by her shop to get a reading, because they just hired a new psychic who does really good readings. 

“Oh cool,” I said. “Does she read, like, tarot cards?” 

“No,” said Sam. “She channels.” 

Weirdly enough, my hometown has a pretty strong hippie presence; there are two crystal shops, one vague “holistic healing” type place, and—right next door to my cafe—a salt cave. I regret to inform you that it is not an actual cave. It’s just a building with a lot of salt in it, and they do spa treatments there, with the salt. I’ve never been inside but I read their website sometimes because it lulls me into a trance. Anyway, some ladies from the cave showed up at the coffeeshop a few months ago to host what my manager referred to as an event. The event was that they were giving out free samples of red light therapy. The Red Light itself was already set up at the far end of the shop, out of my view, but I did watch the ladies set up a big poster board listing all the ailments that can be cured by red light therapy. One of the bullet points just said “viruses.” 

Now, this was at about 6 pm. You may be wondering why the coffee shop, which sells coffee, is open so late in the evening. I wonder that too. During the night shift, which runs from 5 to 9 pm, we tend to get an average of four customers or thereabouts, and I guess no one had thought to tell the cave ladies this. So, after a few hours of watching them sit quietly behind the poster board, I put down my milk rag and asked for a hit of that sweet, sweet red light. 

One of the women led me to the back, sat me down, and handed me a pair of DB-Cooper-esque sunglasses. Or goggles, I guess, because they were on a string instead of frames. I snapped them obediently around my head as she told me about how red light jumpstarts your mitochondria, and then she turned on the light and just fucking left. This I found hilarious, so I just sat there blind for like 10 minutes trying really hard not to laugh. I didn’t feel all that different after the ten minutes were up, but the gay teenager who comes in sometimes to buy strawberry limeade was sitting at the counter throughout this whole thing and he said I looked very cool in the red light with my sungoggles on. Thanks Alex! 

Item four: THE DEFENESTRATION OF PRAGUE

I was googling the Defenestration of Prague recently, and the Wikipedia page for that one is a real treat. Turns out it’s actually the Defenestrations of Prague, because they did that shit more than once. So many times, in fact, that if you scroll past the main ones there’s a subheading entitled “Further Defenestrations.” I have now decided to form an indie group called “Mary Elaine and the Defenestrations of Prague” so we can release one self-titled album, then an EP called “Further Defenestrations,” and then I’m faking my death and driving south. 

That’s all, folks! I leave you with On The Road Again by Bob Dylan, which has arguably the greatest opening line of any song ever. Have a nice week, stay sexy, and beware.

1. This person was definitely kidding, but that’s even funnier.

2. My colleague Gill and I were at this very same store once when two employees processed past us with a pair of bronze bells, clanging rhythmically. “Just cleansing the space,” one of them said. Sound off in the comments if you think I should start doing this unannounced at my local Shell station.