I made a few more remarks, but it was no use. I had suddenly turned into a raving Lothario in her eyes. And so I downed my beer and headed home. She had showed me her journal as the conversation continued. She was particularly proud of one page.
Insults are a solid surrogate for guns and violence.
I returned to my friends and I reported that my conversation had not gone well. There are three million pratfalls in the naked city. These are three of them. Made of a thick, seemingly undenim fabric, my legs slip into these lovely and comfortable pants and magically sidestep the tragic Dockers that others use to meet the bare minimum. Whereas Tom Wolfe cannot leave his house without wearing a glorious white suit, I cannot leave the house without wearing some form of casual attire.