It’s 12:34 a.m. in Hollywood.

“You don’t have any Xanax, do you?” Glitter Girl asks.

“No, I said, ‘Xanadu.’ It’s an ’80s movie. You should watch it.”

“Can I watch it on Xanax? That would be sweet!”

“I imagine you could, but it wouldn’t be as badical,” I replied.

There are words I make up nightly at the door. Little experiments I do often to see if hipsters even take time out of their busy-being-a-hipster schedules and predictable words and phrases to notice my made up slang.

VHSs (Very Hopeful Scenesters) assume the words I make up are the NOW and are what they’re supposed to use because they, like my words, are SUPPOSED TO BE cool and will later appropriate my fake slang.

Tonight my word “badical” is an example of one of these words. It’s totally badass and radical put together, and OMG – it’s sweet!

“Sweet. Xanadu. I’ll have to check it out … Do you have any Xanax?” she eagerly asks as if she had been on a resuscitator for the past few sentences and just brought back to life, a life that could only continue to go on with assistance from a wonder drug.

At that moment I felt the same way; tired, needing something to get me through the rest of the night, or at least this tired conversation.

“No, I don’t have a prescription for that,” I say with a feigned look on my face.

“My friend does. It’s sooooo sweet,” she replies, fully unaware that my last reply was attempting to use a little bit of real sourness to balance out, or even cancel out, her artificial sweetness that was cute earlier … for about four seconds.

In four more seconds Androgynous Boy whisks her through the door as she tries to grab my hand leaving a little glitter on the counter.

“Badical…”