Another week has passed according to my calendar. Not much to report… rather slow week, since tightening up the purse strings. Over a month without income… so my mind is a scope with finding a great employment opportunity centered in the crosshair. In the upcoming days I have a tentative plan to take a ride back to Burbank and attending the last few water polo games. I am also looking into returning to school sooner rather than later to earn my next degree. Big decisions in my future so stay tuned. Since I have a lack of interesting personal news I thought I would share a piece I wrote a few weeks ago....Tuesday, 9:30 am. I sit decompressing at a new local coffee hut. Unfortunately this coffee has never seen the likes of Seattle and I cannot tell if the paper cup or the tar brew tastes worse. Trying to distract myself, I look around at this morning’s guest list and am flabbergasted. It is not even Halloween yet and I am scared beyond words at the fashion faux paus surrounding me. Disclaimer: I am no fashion gendarme. I am guilty of bad judgment calls a time or two (hundred). These are the offenders and I swear on a stack of bible’s these are actual people….
Exhibit A: mid 50’s age male, fire engine red slacks about 5 inches from the floor, resting comfortably on his upper ankles. Blue Superman T-shirt with matching ball cap and fanny pack. He walks in chugging a pint of milk on his nacreous lips, with white stunner shades as if trying to be incognito. I think Clark Kent got old and is making cameo appearances around town.
Exhibit B: elderly Asian woman, age undeterminable due to beautiful youthful skin. She has wounded eyes that tell a tale of many tough years under her belt. I can only smile at her wearing a “wessside” shirt complete with the 3 fingered hand gesture. She was too cute for words, with her chunky 4ft 10 or so frame, ordering green tea.
Exhibit C: middle aged male wearing an avocado colored dress shirt and an outspoken yellow and paisley tie which is fighting a losing dual with a gray hounds-tooth jacket. The still-wet-from-the-shower hair has been neatly combed over a large patch of baldness. Ahhh denial. I am guessing he is some sort of law enforcement due to the almost-disguised walkie talkie radio aiming for concealment on his hip but not covered because the jacket is about 2 sizes to small. He orders a black coffee, extra hot, largest size possible. I’m thinking… stakeout tools??? Maybe I should call one-adam-twelve on this fashion offender.
Exhibit D: 20-something female, predictable SDSU student. She wears hoop earrings the size of drink coasters, tiny shorts declaring her booty to be juicy, strappy tank, also with a declaration, “Yes, They are REAL!” A wool winter scarf doubled around her neck and snow boots completes her ensemble. Just for the record, San Diego is currently experiencing a heat wave and although it’s not even 10 am, it is a very humid 85 degrees already. She orders an iced latte because, and I quote, "It's soooo hot today!" Seriously? Try removing the winter neck scarf and Uggs!
Exhibit E: next is what appears to be a mid-40's business woman a few sunburns past beautiful. She stands statuesque in her Badgley Mischka sling-backs and an ebony Donna Karan skirt and jacket set. Her makeup attempting flawless, but failing due to the humidity in the atmosphere. Her hair is pulled tightly back into a bun which I suspect is a do-it-yourself-facelift. Peeking out of her Louis V purse is a trashy romance novel with the clichéd Fabio-esque character emblazed on the cover. Even cultured folk enjoy a tacky fable from time to time.
Exhibit F: a young brotha, appearing to be in his high school years, stereotypically dressed in baggy jeans, I am guessing about a size 40 around an actual 30-ish waistline. His trousers hang roughly halfway down his derriere and I imagine A-Team Underoos to be his draaawz of choice. The white T-shirt is only outdone by the silver plated chain link worn over it. I wonder if this jewelry also doubles as the lock for the Big Wheel he rode here in on. Tray Sheik, dude. Mister T called… he wants his bike lock back. “I pity the fool!”
I decide I have seen enough of this freak show and begin packing up my gear. In strolls what I assume to be a female. I only see “her” from the back as she has already approached the order counter. The haircut is a stylishly-clipped Bob and the attire is casual: Levi’s jeans, pink long sleeve blouse, open toed beaded sandals and a frog book bag. The patron turns around and low and behold, the face is unequivocally masculine. Full makeup, complete with lip gloss and rouge, does not distract from the protruding adams apple, bobbing like it is seeking its water tub counterpart for upcoming holiday festivities. This was no testament to genetics.
My mother always told me that one must accept people on their own terms and I have no ill regard for the visions before me at this locale. If anything, I find this afternoon quite humorous and a breath of fresh air on an otherwise depressing day. My guardian angel must have sent me here for an attitude adjustment. I thank this cherub because lately my smiles have been few and far in between.
