Coolio

Ahh, the super installed my air conditioning, at last. Since it's a frickin' hot day, the timing couldn't be better (and since my sweat line is 74 degrees and up, it's not hard to cool off). Good bike ride home -- surprisingly, it wasn't too packed at the lake shore and the beach, but maybe because it's only Tuesday? Whatever the case, it was a breezy ride home.

Of course, as I cruised the fleshfest that is Bikini Boulevard, I couldn't help but notice that not having a tattoo puts one in a distinct minority, increasingly. I mean, this morning, on the elevator in, these two otherwise very Midwestern gals were amicably talking, and as they left the elevator, I saw that one had a star tattoo right at the nape of her neck, only visible because she had her hair up in a ponytail. Of course, a very safe spot, since she just has to let her hair down and it's covered, but all the same, kind of a surprise with somebody in professional attire, but then again, far more common than is once was. What might've been shocking in 1955 is commonplace in 2011.

Speaking of shocking and commonplace, I have seen a footwear trend that is ghastly and dismal (and I've seen reports of it in the South and on the East Coast, too). Bootie Sandals? Sandal Booties? I have taken to calling them "Floopsandals" because they look ridiculous, like somebody's wearing plucked Fraggles on their feet. These are somewhat representative, although I've seen far worse examples streetside...

Notice how the model has her feet up? It's because when a gal stands up with them, the Floopenfabrik bunches up at her ankles, created the Fraggle-like Floopeneffekt.

A still photograph is not enough to convey the sheer lameness of these sandals. I call'em Floopsandals because when one walks in these, it creates a kind of "flooping" motion, as the gratuitous fabric kinda flutters around. What might've worked with an 80s woman's bootie looks ridiculous with these sandals. This is the most dire fashion trend since UGG Boots. Seriously, you won't be able to miss the Floopsandals when they turn up in your neck of the woods, just because the monumental lameness of them just catches you offguard. These are so lame they make the gladiator sandals of the year or so before seem respectable and restrained by comparison. Beware the Floopsandal!

Keeping My Cool

I was irked, as my a/c still hadn't been installed; it's been almost two weeks. I gave the building management some time, figuring "They must be really busy" last week, and with the temperature drops, I would "weather" (ar ar) the absence of the a/c, but it's warming up again, and so I went downstairs to find out what the deal was, whether they'd lost my form, misplaced my check, or what. Anyway, I was fortunate that somebody was down there, although the guy was "busy" with two comely chickies, one of whom talked almost nonstop. He was a skinny, balding, pale geeky kinda guy, so I thought "Shit, this is going to be  awhile." So, I waited for a few minutes, hoping for the chatty gal to pause in her talking to take a breath, or at least for the guy to interrupt her to ask me what I needed. I wasn't going to be rude, I just waited until it was clear that, whatever these gals wanted or were doing (and I'm sure it was somehow apartment-related, from what they were jabbering about), it had basically been attended to. I piped up, asked the guy what the deal was with my a/c, and he looked it up. Both gals were good-looking in that bland, midwestern way. Well, one was; the other wasn't so great facewise, but had a really nice body. The talkie one had torn an ACL while skiing, and was talking about all she had to go through with that, and what she'd have to go through once she got the cast/splint removed (casts are looking so high-tech these days, it's hard to tell a cast from a splint, but this thing was like for her whole leg). I thought "Yeah, you'll have to be shaving that leg, too, when you get that thing off." *shudder* Anyway, the other gal looked kind of like a particular 70s actor, whose name eludes me at the moment. Tom Atkins. Yeah. That's who she looked like (truly), with bleached blonde hair. But her body was magnificent. The guy finally dredged up the forms, and it turned out that they has screwed up -- they had processed my form, cashed the check, and somebody had cleared the form like the job had already been done. The guy apologized, and I didn't lose my cool, although I was miffed. I left the guy with the chicks and went on my way. They're supposed to install it today. If they don't this time, I'll be pissed.

Of course, me being me, I wondered which if the two gals I would have gone after, as a kind of philosophical man-problem -- the chatterer was genuinely good-looking (looked like a blend of Virginia Madsen and Nicole Kidman), and seemed intelligent, outgoing, and personable. But she truly never stopped talking; like, the entire time I was there, she was talking; I honestly don't know how she breathed. That's like the near-equivalent of someone with an annoying laugh -- it's one of those things where you think "Could I put up with that for long?" The gal with the killer body was, of necessity, quieter (she did get a few words in edgewise, in the monologue tsunami going on), so her personality wasn't nearly as apparent as the more talkative one. But then, the quiet one likely didn't have to talk much -- her assets were immediately apparent. The proper Dave-answer, of course, is "Both."

(Don't worry, Joel Grey didn't harm Captain Janeway; he just employed a technique to induce an orgasm in a woman by way of nerves in her wrist)