:Ok so I really can't figure out how I feel about you... you're cute in an artsy kinda way, you were super cool to me when i came for a show and you were taking care of your drunken friend... yet when I saw you on your road bike and I was merely on a cruiser you looked at me with disdain. I rocked out to Mr. California and said what up.. you didnt acknowledge my existence. Is it the fact that I havent bought into uber cool hipster materialism? Maybe you don't give a shit about that farce either. Maybe it's my faux hawk...I don't know. Alas poor liz, the fuckn owner as you so eloquently put it, it's like that Smokey Robinson song. No not that one, the other one.