Thursday, June 22, 2006

In Foreign Lands

There's not any good way to admit this, so I'll just come right out and say it:

I spent part of my evening going to a party at a high-end fashion store, designed to promote the new movie, "The Devil Wore Prada."

There's some sort of comedy potential in this -- a guy whose wardrobe is almost entirely Target-based, a guy who wears hiking boots on dates, going to a bash at a place where they charge $650 for blue jeans or whatever. As you may guess, there were two motivating factors (and my excitement over "The Devil Wore Prada" coming to the big screen was not one):

1) girls

2) open bar.

As advertised, the booze was free, and there were girls, but I quickly ran into a problem. I'm not the smoothest conversationalist when you plop me down into the Society of Stunningly Attractive Girls Who Drink Too Much and Love Hockey and Have A Strange Eastern European Fetish (SSAGWDTOLHHASEEF) -- when you put me down into something like this, I pretty much just stare at the cleavage and drink the free beer.

I did glean two valuable fashion tips, which I present to you at no charge: for women, cleavage appears to be in, and for men, something best described as the "Gay Urkel" look appears to be in.

After quickly coming to the realization that my favored conversational gambits -- Hamas and hockey -- would get me nowhere, I relocated to friendlier climes. At Eclipse di Sol -- the place where I spend six out of seven nights, the place so nice that I link to it -- I settled in, relaxed. On the way out, I saw my friend PJ sitting at a table, chatting to a lovely intellectual-looking girl. I gave him a boisterous punch on the arm, and when he turned around, I jabbered about how I was going to head home, but it was great to see him, have a great night for a good 30 seconds before I realized that the only thing this guy had in common with PJ was a shaved head and a striped shirt. In fact, this guy was rather large, and had the hunted, cornered, angry look one associates with a guy who's just been punched on the arm by a total stranger. I bid hasty excuses and then fled. Flourish. Exeunt. Curtain.

3 comments:

a. said...

Dear god - that's not a night out, that's a smashingly-entertaining train wreck! (Perhaps it's funnier for me than it is for you, however.) Still, well done!

And I look forward to seeing you morph into Gay Urkel. I mean, if it gets dates, it could be worth it, no? ;-)

Anonymous said...

Oh, dude! God, I laughed my ass off, you retard!

L.P.

gsdgsd13 said...

Well, the problem is, the Gay Urkel guys seemed to be legitimately gay. Which would presumably impede my scoring abilities.

"I laughed my ass off, you retard!" may now be the new PPA slogan.