blues from a gun

On my break from lunch yesterday, I had two missions. The first one was to go to Walgreen's and pick up the new GQ magazine. The second was to get some breakfast at Bob's Diner.

Mission #1. Ok, I go on break. Smoke a cigarette and walk to Walgreen's. I pick up the issue. The cover is Justin Timberlake and it reads: "The 10 Most Stylish Men in America." I go over to the counter to pay for it and I hand it over to the lady. This lady is probably in her mid-50's, Asian and wearing a Walgreen's vest. She looks at the magazine and mumbles the cover story's title. And then she looks at me and says: "I hope it helps." I shit you not. And I'm thinking to myself, in Robert De Niro's voice, "Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say? Say it again. Fuck you, If you weren't a woman I'd punch you right in the mouth." This is why I should always leave my newly bought (and super awesome) switchblade at home. But since I am a polite man I say nothing in response and just do my best Butser Keaton stone-face. I pay and walk out.

Mission #2. Let's give some background about my relationship to Bob's Diner. The only reason that I go there is because The Polk Street Station closed. It was the best. Bangin' biscuits and gravy. Non rubbery scrambled eggs. Good portions. Good prices. Not only was it my favorite diner but it was actually my favorite thing in the entire world. But it's closed. The signs still up but the windows are boarded up. I try not to look at the sign. I try to just walk past it and not remember all the great times. I am Bob's man now. For better or for worse.

So, I go to Bob's. I order the #1 Special, 2 pancakes, 2 eggs, 2 sausages, 2 bacon. And coffee. I order my eggs poached. I get my coffee and thumb through GQ. My food comes and I start to eat. And it's just so not at all...good. Every thing about it kind of sucks. Especially the eggs, which were so runny that I almost asked for a spoon. The bacon was probably cooked yesterday. The pancakes were actual pieces of cardboard that just had butter on them. The sausage was ok, but probably sucked, but because everything sucked a lot more I was under the impression, that these little sausages weren't so bad. And I just really just miss The Polk Street Station. I miss that waiter with the white hair. I miss the hash browns. I miss going there by myself and reading the sports page. I miss going there with Matthew and Katie, while they would have a very intelligent conversation about something like the rhetorical influence on modern art, I would stupidly just stare at the big and awful "People On The Train" mural. I miss my diner. I miss it a lot. Bob's sucks. I don't know what to do anymore. How am I supposed to get over awesome Polk Street Station when I have to have my rebound with shitty Bob's Diner. What in god's name am I supposed to do? I pay and walk out.

I go back to work and finish my shift. My boss Erin counts the money in my register to see how much I fucked up, I fucked up very little. I tell Erin my story about the lady at Walgreen's and her little comment. Erin laughed at me and asked me if I really read GQ. When people ask me this question, I always reply the same: "Hell yeah, I read GQ! I've been reading GQ since I was 8." Which is a false statement, I've been reading it since I was 27. I wish that I had been reading since I was 8. But then me and Erin start talking about fashion. And it goes to the point of the skinny pants on guys. I'm not into it, personally. I think that the skinny pants of today are far too skinny and are going to look really stupid in about a year. Erin agrees slightly, but replies that skinny jeans on dudes is pretty smokin' hot. And it's kind of weird. I very rarely think about the way I dress if it's actually attractive to the female eye. I mean here's the thing: yes, of course I want the ladies to think I'm a hottie. But what I go for when clothing shopping is "how does this work for me. Does it fit right? Are the colors good? Are the patterns good? Am I going to feel comfortable and confident wearing this?" Cause when you dress good, god dammit, you feel good. It's a proven fact. And cause confidence is sexy. But then I start to think if I got some of those skinny pants, could I wear them confidently? Would I be comfortable? And could it help me get laid? Cause really, it's kind of been a while.

Clothes are on my mind as I leave work and walk to this used clothing store, that I 'm not going to name, because it's my secret spot. I totally fucking score 2 Brooks Brothers sweaters that are insanely awesome. One baby blue, one navy blue. And this black Armani oxford shirt. And it was like a total of like $25. Fuckin' A, dude! But I now realize that I have to stop buying things that are the color blue. I got too much. Way too much. And that I need to buy some brown pants to go with all this blue, cause I really only own blue jeans. Which are also blue. And now that I think about it, even my sneakers are blue. Fuck, that's a lot of blue. No wonder everyone is always so bummed out to see me. So brown pants are my next fashion mission. Will I buy the skinny ones? You'll have to wait and see.

:::UPDATE:::

blue, motherfucking blue.