Full Khaki Jacket

Has a compliment ever warranted an acidic repsonse? In my experience, that would be a no. But apparently, I was the target of reversed social norms on Saturday night.

While out celebrating my friend Elizabeth's birthday, we were leaving a bar near the old apartment. After a few hours of Uncle Jaeger and Cousin Red Bull with some Bud Lights, we headed towards the exit. At the door was a tall, lanky fellow with a jacket on that had a funny patch sewn into it. The patch read "gynocogist," which I thought was rather amusing. So I pointed to it and said "I like your patch, it's funny." To which he replied:

A.) Thanks! Not bad, eh?
B.) Yeah, I picked it up at hot topic because I'm a poseur! The really funny thing is I've never even kissed a girl!
C.) Shut up. You're a dweeb and I hate you.
D.) The sun never sets on the British Empire.

If you guessed C, you're right. Evidently I rubbed this guy the wrong way. It seems as though there was something about me he didn't like. I immediately felt that he didn't care for my outward appearance. I was donning a blue plaid spread collar shirt with jeans and my new khaki jacket. It was a preppy ensemble, but people dress nice when they go out. Elizabeth was wearing a dress for cryin out loud (which is a major plot point at the next bar).

Needless to say I was taken aback by someone hating me so soon. It usually takes a little while before people develop a genuine disgust for my presence. But this wasn't the only time my jacket spawned a comment from a stranger that night.

At our next watering hole, Elizabeth and I were standing in line getting our IDs checked. A lone, crusty man, sitting at the bar said "Hey, nice jacket! AHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!" All could think to say was "Thanks."

Why does this matter? It doesn't. I just like my friend Mike to know what's going on, so I keep writing.

And yes, a friend lifted Elizabeth's dress about 6 times at Pete's Bar, revealing 98% of her deriere to the bar. Happy Birthday Elizabeth!

When I have nothing else to talk about...

I have been racking my brain on what to write the last two days. Haven't been able to find a good article to talk about, nor do I believe my daily life is interesting enough to rant with, so I've decided to comment on a fabulous scene involving Jon Favreau, his cordless phone, and someone else's answering machine.

"Hi! This is Nikki, leave a message!"

Those words make me cringe. I was watching Swingers again the other night. I think many would agree that this particular scene is one of the most painful to watch in cinematic history.

"Hi! This is Nikki, leave a message!"

Good lord... I've seen the movie a good 165 times, and every time Mikey sits on the futon and pulls out Nikki's (played by the lovely Brooke Langton) phone number, I think to myself "Maybe he won't do it this time...." And I'm being serious. I honestly hope every time I watch this that he won't pick up the phone. And at times, I've changed the channel so I didn't have to watch. It's a lot like a scary movie, and all you want to do is pull the covers over your head. It Hurts SO MUCH TO WATCH.

"Hi! This is Nikki, leave a message!"

Maybe I hope he won't do it because even I haven't gone to the lengths Mikey went to in this dialog with a mini tape. He's absolutely pathetic, and I think it scares me. Really and truly... not that I've gone to those lengths, but maybe I've been to a fraction of them. I'm not sure.

"Hi! This is Nikki, leave a message!"

And just as he breaks up with the girl he never went out with...

"Mike... Don't ever call me again."

Ouch.

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