I don't understand cold fusion, the treble clef, math or hipster fashion. Things that shouldn't be said are "damn girl, nice dick" or "hey dude, nice purse". If a dude walks into a room with a evening gown and a pair of 38 c titties it could be the proper time to complement your new friends coach purse. You could argue that your purse is not a purse at all, but a super chic European satchel, this argument will not work when wearing gloves that match the purse. Don't get me wrong, I dig ironic fashion.... Sometimes I go out in public dressed like a fireman even though I'm not a fireman or wear shirts that say shit like "neurosurgeon" or "sexual predator" even though I am clearly neither.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
hobnobbing with the indianapolis elite part 2
Is going to be coming soon...
like a eunuch.....never came.
like a eunuch.....never came.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
hobnobbing with the indianapolis elite
Last Friday the lady and I attended "Ice Miller's Get Fucking Blotto for Public Radio" at the beautiful Indiana Roof Ballroom. Parking our car involved driving to the top of Mt. McKinley and doing our best not to slide down it's ice covered apex. I finally have something in common with Edmund Hillary other than a love of beekeeping and New Zealand politics. While waiting for the elevator I realized Melissa and I were in the presence of celebrities including Scrooge McDuck, Richie Rich's dad, The dude from Monopoly (who may be named Mr. Moneybags?), a Lady who looked like the tea kettle from beauty and the beast and Clay Aiken's art school drop out twin brother. You can tell these were successful people, the men were all wearing the finest dinner jackets 1987 had to offer and the lady was wearing a stunning black pant suit with the most intricate gilded embroidery. Fuck, I should have been spending my time realizing I was in an elevator with people who were clearly better than me instead of studying their fashion and taking mental notes. Tea Kettle lady had what I like to call "poop smelling face" or P.S.F if I'm feeling frisky. Poop smelling face looks exactly like it sounds. It's the face you make when the aroma of fresh shit first hits you.
Standing in an elevator with so much personality can only lead to disaster, my anus has a natural instinct to release flatulence in confined spaces (I have contacted several medical professionals about this, after much research it has been determined to be an involuntary reflex) luckily my entire digestive system was preoccupied preparing for the obscene amount of alcohol I would be sending it's way throughout the evening. Instead I embarrassed myself in a new and exciting way, when the elevator opened to let Scrooge McDuck and the Ronald Reagan fan club out I moved out of the way. When I moved I also signaled to Tea Kettle Lady that a poor person was moving out of her way. I wasn't going to stop her from enjoying her night away from all the stresses of dinner parties, golf outings and shopping. When I moved out of the way my messenger bag brushed against her gold lamé threading which outraged her. She let out the most terrific "excuuse me" I have ever heard. I promptly apologised for my bags terrible behaviour and explained we would have a talk about how to act in public later in the evening. An old fashioned "I'm sorry" wasn't enough for her. I ruined her life and now the fibers of her sweater were soaked with the essence of middle class. I can understand this reaction if my bag had been full of aborted fetuses or spoiled turkey, nope just clothes. She reacted like those people in the 80's movies who faked whiplash after a light fender bender. I was waiting for her to demand restitution in the form of wampum or indentured servitude. I continued to apologise to her since she wouldn't just shut the fuck up and I can understand, this is the single worst thing to ever happen to her. Stay tuned for more.
Standing in an elevator with so much personality can only lead to disaster, my anus has a natural instinct to release flatulence in confined spaces (I have contacted several medical professionals about this, after much research it has been determined to be an involuntary reflex) luckily my entire digestive system was preoccupied preparing for the obscene amount of alcohol I would be sending it's way throughout the evening. Instead I embarrassed myself in a new and exciting way, when the elevator opened to let Scrooge McDuck and the Ronald Reagan fan club out I moved out of the way. When I moved I also signaled to Tea Kettle Lady that a poor person was moving out of her way. I wasn't going to stop her from enjoying her night away from all the stresses of dinner parties, golf outings and shopping. When I moved out of the way my messenger bag brushed against her gold lamé threading which outraged her. She let out the most terrific "excuuse me" I have ever heard. I promptly apologised for my bags terrible behaviour and explained we would have a talk about how to act in public later in the evening. An old fashioned "I'm sorry" wasn't enough for her. I ruined her life and now the fibers of her sweater were soaked with the essence of middle class. I can understand this reaction if my bag had been full of aborted fetuses or spoiled turkey, nope just clothes. She reacted like those people in the 80's movies who faked whiplash after a light fender bender. I was waiting for her to demand restitution in the form of wampum or indentured servitude. I continued to apologise to her since she wouldn't just shut the fuck up and I can understand, this is the single worst thing to ever happen to her. Stay tuned for more.
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