Monday, August 06, 2007

A travesty of justice

Whenever I am out with Jen I laugh my ass off. It's true. We are just sitting there catching up, swapping stories, laughing and laughing, until I hear a thud. And I look down and it's my ass on the floor. Once again, I've laughed it clean off.


We went to Proof last Friday night to catch up. (Kristin - if you're reading this - we asked but you weren't there.) It's my new favorite spot. It also seems to be the new favorite spot of much of DC.

So I am telling Jen about the slightly delicate man that I went out with a couple weeks ago. Jen's preference is for big, really big, sturdy, corn-fed men. She starts to think aloud about the extent to which she'd prefer oafishness over a too-high voice or delicate gestures.

She says, "I would rather have a beer-belching, crotch-scratching, game-watching man who insists upon eating at Applebee's. . .and um. . ."

She looks pained.

"You just threw up a little in your mouth, didn't you?"

She nods. I get the point, though. No high-voiced delicate-gestured men for Jen.

Shortly after this I get waved at by a guy I went on one date with last year. He is with a date. I am glad; we won't have to chit chat. I wave back.

Jen has to go to the bathroom and so I describe the fellow, as he is right in her path to the bathroom. There is no way she can miss him.

She asks what he's wearing, and I say a blue polo with the collar turned up, dressy jeans, and cream shoes. He makes a lot of money, and I am sure they are very expensive. But shockingly ugly.

She traipses off to the bathroom, and as she is making her way back, I see her inspecting people along the way. Finally she gets to him, stops abruptly, and looks him in the face. I see her eyes widen as she looks him slowly from head to toe. He is intent on his date and it is crowded, so he doesn't seem to notice. Although I don't know how he missed this inspection.

Two years in China erased any and all American ability to be subtle and pretend she's not checking someone out. She has a look of both alarm and recognition as she reaches the shoes. Her head jerks up and she continues back to our table, eyes wide.

She is laughing as she sits down. "That pink Polo logo on his shirt? As big as my face. You couldn't mention that? You made me look for the hideous cream colored shoes!"

"I just couldn't imagine that he'd be hard to spot! He was right on the way!"

"Why in hell didn't you just say, 'He's not wearing an outfit. He's wearing a travesty of justice!'? I would've spotted him immediately!"


  1. Hmmm... flipping through mental wardrobe inventory...
    Pink Polo shirt with a large logo.
    none found

    Cream colored shoes.
    Che... err... but... but..

    Okay, they're silk. And they're custom made. And they're embroidered And they match my sherwani.


    Oh well... :-p

  2. VVK - You have nothing like either of these items. I know you. You will never dress like a travesty of justice. This logo was gigantic. Probably as big as one of your hands. He could have posted a sign that said "HEY! Look at my Polo shirt!" And the shoes were kind of, well, shiny, dressy. Like colored office shoes. Only cream colored. Why? I dunno.

  3. Pink polo shirt?!? Was the collar turned up? If so, I think I know you're like douchebags.

  4. Were there so many collar-popped jackasses in there that she had to find other distinguishing features? That's just depressing.

    I worry more about the kind of girl that actually finds that level of pretension attractive. Travesty of justice, indeed.

  5. Haha gotta love the popped collar. I'm glad you passed this guy up.


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