Groggy, barely processing, I'm standing in a long line at Starbucks behind a woman wearing a gold lamé sweater, stirrup pants, and ankle-high patent leather stilettos. She is waggling. Her butt. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back. And. Fucking. Forth. A few minutes later she starts moving her feet, and I realize she's practicing salsa. In line. At Starbucks. At 8:30am.
Dear Jeebus,
Like everyone else, I have a few requests:
1. Please strike me blind.
2. Please immediately immolate any individual who cannot resist the (oh so tempting) allure of wearing lamé before 9pm. I hear lamé is very flammable. Go Old Testament on their ass, you know you want to. With all the cyclones and earthquakes lately you must be missing the personal touch.
3. Get me my coffee ASAP.
Sincerely,
Your Thoroughly Creeped Out Friend.
I am oddly cheered by this post. Of course, it is now almost 2PM.
Posted by: flexy | May 21, 2008 at 01:29 PM
You really need to carry a camera!
While, I can picture it.....a photo
would have been a nice addition.
Posted by: john | May 21, 2008 at 01:42 PM
Well I found the problem... you went to Starbucks...
Posted by: God | May 21, 2008 at 04:34 PM
She's flying her freak flag. I would have found it a bit much, too, but she's exercising an inalienable human right. She's the reason I have the right to go to Starbucks and order a "small coffee."
Posted by: Nan | May 21, 2008 at 05:41 PM
being up all nite doing lines and having the post-drip jitters
Posted by: itiscalled | May 21, 2008 at 10:27 PM
Must be part of a national trend:
globalchameleon.blogspot.com/2008/05/dude-wheres-my-pants.html
Posted by: Adam Gaffin | May 21, 2008 at 10:50 PM