Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Three Things

1. Phine azz bus drivers. Maybe you would be looking at a picture of him right now if my spanking brand new Motorola v220 ... wasn't dropped at his feet. It's very difficult to look for the MetroCard, gossip with coworkers on the cell phone and be mesmerized by a stunning 6'2 chocolate morsel ... all at once. Sometimes you can only concentrate on one thing.

2. Attack of the killer miniature chihuahuas. Cute cuddly canines that shiver and look oh-so-cute? Hardly. While nursing my bruised and battered ego cell phone over a grande carmel macchiato, saw a couple walking by with the demon dogs. We crossed paths around the corner ... where Nick and Jessica jumped from the woman's arms and charged me. From across the street! Didn't believe the little ankle biters would come after me, but apparently they confused me with a giant Beggin' Strip.

3. Frayed Jeans Are Gay, Gay, Gay. What a difference a day crazed miniature chihuahua makes. One minute your snappy Engineered Levis are turning heads. The brothaz playing baseball want to know where they can bought. The hottie working in the corner bodega asks about your benchpress. Hours later—post attack—the jeans are frayed around the ankles. Regardless of the do-rag or wifebeater, frayed jeans spell one thing for 6'4 225lb men: muscle queen. Pretty Puerto Rican girls who normally smile look at the jeans and frown. Older women look at the jeans and shake their heads. Dark and lovelys at the next hoops game ... point and whisper.