Archive for June, 2007

Dear Tourist Guy:

Thank you for visiting our beautiful city.  I hope that you enjoyed your stay and found it educational, entertaining and all around excellent.  I appreciate your visit: you, after all, drive the local economy, help pay to maintain the numerous museums, parks and monuments, and keep those dirty dog stands in business by buying $5.00 bottles of water for yourself and your entire family of 10.  Even your expensive day passes on the Metro help keep WMATA afloat.

Yet, I feel that I must point out something that I found utterly disturbing. 

I would ask that you, Sir, put on a shirt while walking around our fair city.  That tank top, I felt, was a little lacking in coverage.

Now, I understand; yesterday was a miserable day – the temperature reached up to 95 degrees, with nearly 80% humidity.  It was gross, it was nasty, and anyone who was foolish enough to go sight-seeing was courting heatstroke and possible death.  Don't think I am unsympathetic to your discomfort: after all, I, myself, was slowly sweating my way through my shirt.

It's not so much that I'm a prude – I do not have an issue with anyone wearing a tanktop, especially on a day like this.

I object because you, Tank-Top wearing Tourist Guy, you and your thick tufts of pubic-hair-like back hair kept rubbing up against me.

At first, I thought it was my shirt tag that was tickling my neck.  Then I remembered I was wearing one of those new-fangled tagless shirts.  I turned around to look as to what was irritating my skin, when I got an eyeful of back hair.

No really, I nearly poked my eye out with your wiry, coarse, at-least-3-inches-long, salt-and-pepper pelt that peeked brazenly over, around, and THROUGH the back of your thin, sweat-soaked  tank top.  (OH JESUS WHAT THE FUCK?)

Even worse was when your wife threaded (THREADED!!! OH GOD!) her fingers through your wooly hide:  It was all I could do not to projectile vomit all over you.

So please, put a shirt on.  Sweet babyJesus and all his Saints – I beg you, please put a fucking shirt on.  I don't think I can handle another 3 hours in the shower, scrubbing myself with a pumice stome.





p.s.  But hey, Hairy Tank Top Wearing Tourist Guy with the Pelt, thanks for giving me fodder for a VOX post.



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I fail at VOXing.

I am pathetic.  Look at my lack of VOXish productivity: I mean, I've gone from a high of 21 posts in a month, to a measly five these past few months.  What happened to my funny? What happened to my witty/obscene/ridiculously silly postings?  What happened to my MOJO? 

I'm wondering that if I say "I'm taking a break," inspiration will bite me on the ass and get me going again just to be contrary.  You know, reverse psychology and all that.

Ok, here goes.


I am taking a break.



…waits for inspiration.

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