I re-met a guy last night that is a friend of Emerald's boyfriend. He's been living in New York for the past 26 years, which is his collective age. Evidently he used to be the head of a Wiccan Coven up there, but he passed the role on when he came down here a month ago. He's now sleeping in Cal Colgan's office room is his house. This person "James" or as he told people who did not already know him, "Spyke." He aspires to gain employment as a fast food estabilishment here in St. A. as soon as the college kids depart for Christmas. He has worked at Wendy's, McDonalds, and Burger King and informed me of the pros and cons of working at each. Lets just say, don't eat the chili at Wendy's... With five years of fast food experience, he's a shoo-in for any position. Moving on to the real reason he caught my attention. Instead of doing as drunk guys in the company of drunk girls would do, which is ass-grabbing and soliciting without any real vocal exchange. James claimed that he was a "Gentleman." And that he would never do anything without first asking the drunk girl in question. The first example was my horrifically drunk friend Sara, whom I have never seen wasted to that extent. I look up and I just see his hand go down and an squeeze her butt. My immediate reaction was to scream "Sara!" across the porch and then make her come over and sit next to me. This sadly also brought James over, who continued to tell us both that we have very soft looking lips that he would love to test how soft they were if we wouldn't mind. And then continued further to tell me that from the night he met me in the studio he wanted to take me home. Though, not necessarily to do scary things, just because he would love to spend time with me.
He looks like skeezy Jesus, no imagery required.
The corruption of the term "Gentleman" through the ages is an excruciating failure. We're not even in the same ballpark.
There was no parade to watch this morning. :(
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