The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘tramp’

Quick Hits from D.C.

Hello friends … how are ye? I’m in the D.C. area for a little trip.

I

I’ll throw out a statement my cousin, and sometime commenter, made yesterday:

He was talking about seeing a beautiful woman and the thoughts that follow

  • She’s probably a jerk because she’s so beautiful
  • She’s probably too good to talk to him
  • “Or three, I’m an idiot because neither of those first things are true but I’m too afraid to go talk to her.”

I won’t say that last one is a direct quote because I didn’t write it down then, but I thought that was pretty brilliant from ol’ cousin G.

II

I also got to meet up with a friend of mine I haven’t seen since high school. I had bragged somewhat about meeting up with her because she’s a writer for a very well known and good magazine … Time.

Yeah. That’s right. I know a real writer.

She called me a tramp many times. This is because, at dinner one night, we (along with friends of hers) talked about if a kiss at the end of a good first date is expected. I said yes. She said no. Therefore, I was a tramp. So you’ve heard it here first, folks, Time magazine thinks I’m a tramp.

III

Last night I went to a coffee shop mainly to check emails. I noticed a table right by me with two girls, one of them on her laptop. She was looking at okcupid and plentyoffish, two dating websites. She was reading some messages to her friend, and they were laughing about guys on that site.

Sure it could be perceived as mean, but I’d challenge you to be on one of those sites and NOT do that sometimes.

One of the messages the girl had gotten involved the guy telling her she was lucky to have received a message from him, that it was a great experience. I thought that was pretty good.

I actually ended up talking to them about the sites and how they enjoy them. One of the girls told me the other girl was trying to date the village people – a biker, a cop, an Indian chief, a … whatever the rest are. This was a joke goal, but also pretty fantastic.

Girl 1: Where will we find a cowboy?
Girl 2: Ok well it doesn’t have to be a cowboy.
Girl 1: Yeah, it could just be like a guy from Texas.
Girl 2: Yeah. He’d have to wear a cowboy hat though.
Girl 1: Ok so a guy from Texas.
(Me sitting there, visiting from Texas.)

The fact that I went up and talked to these two was enough bold, outgoing-ness for one day. I wasn’t about to say, “ya’ll lookin’ for a Texan? Aw now, look no futha’.” Except wait, I’m awkward.

Me: I’m actually visiting here from Houston.
Girl 1: Perfect! You two can date!
(Girl 2 probably scared.)
Me: Well I’m not FROM Texas. You need one of my co-workers with a real thick drawl.
Girl 1: Oh ok.
(Unsure where to go from there … a little awkward silence … I made fun of Texas … then the shop owner says ok get out. It was closing time.)

Congratulations to me.

De Jour of the Week (6/20/10)

6/20/2010

I re-read this poem and it makes me sound very crotchet-y old man-like. That’s only partly true. Really it’s just fun to make fun of loud, trampy 13 year old kids.

Ode to the Mall Food Court

It’s Saturday afternoon and I’ve got nothing to do
I make a decision that I’ll soon rue
Yes, I’m on my way to the mall
To window shop and have a real ball.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You’re 13 years old for God’s sake,
So put some damn clothes on.

I arrive and holy cow look at that parking lot
I’m liable to rot before I find a spot
Aha!, a spot!, there, by the Sears
Please don’t walk in the middle of the street my-could-you-walk-any-slower dears.

The parking lot experience is now behind me
And I’m approaching the mall entrance quickly
What treasures will I find here today
And at what overpriced prices will I get to pay.

I’m in the body of the mall, looking for one of those maps
How long until Apple has a ‘You Are Here’ mall map apps?
The video game store is calling to me first
Then some Sbarro for pizza I always think will be better than it is, and a drink to quench my thirst.

“Excuse me,” the gaggle of ten year olds move aside
I feel awkwardly old and tall – yes, I’m an adult that likes the ‘Star Wars Legos’ game, don’t be snide.
With a new, used video game in my hands
I’m heading to the food court to let mall-food grease fill my glands.

Are those shorts, or are you wearing a wedgie?
Shouldn’t you have hit puberty before owning a shirt with the playboy bunny?
I’m in the food court, and I’m having trouble getting around
These teenagers are dressed like idiots, and they make so much sound.

Where are the parents, where is someone not on a cell!
Jeans that skinny can’t be serving your, you know, that well.
I’m in line for my pizza and I’m overhearing some ‘conversations’
The future is bright! It’s hopeful! … But I’ve got my reservations.

I survived the mall, which is saying something
And I’ll admit I’m judgmental and harsh – but not over nothing.
People, please, make your sons and daughters wear pants that fit –
And parents who dress like those kids – you look dumb as shit.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You’re 13 years old for God’s sake,
So put some damn clothes on.

Copyright 2010 Brad Stanley

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