Rape Whistle

artwork by Ted Barrow

This is a new bit I'll post when I witness guys with socially crippling behavior.

Friday night we went to Justin's new restaurant where I had the displeasure of having to wait by the bar with one of Danielle's work-related friends. This guy immediately rubbed me the wrong way. I'm pretty sure this was one of those obligatory 'friendships' people have to maintain for work purposes because Danielle is a photographer and he owns a casting agency. How do I know he owns a casting agency you ask? Because it was the first thing he told me after his name, but not without a Pivenesque pffft-don't-you-know-who-I-am head nod to accompany the introduction. I won't use his name so we'll just call him Negative Nelly.

Anyhow, as Tasha and I discussed standard chick topics like Keira Knightley's feline cheekbones and how we can convince our respective magazine editors to fly us around the world as food critics, Nells walks up to get in on the conversation. Then, either upon deciding we're spoken for, unf*ckable, boring, or all of the above, he barely suppressed an acrid belch, blew it out of his nose, and left us there to fester in the precipitation of his stomach acids. And then he just walked away.

It took a minute to stop laughing and gather ourselves, but just as we'd settled back into our conversation Nellsy returned, this time with a bottle of wine and a smile. We made it clear that there was no way he was worming his way into our conversation, so he sorta stood there for a minute before letting out the loudest most expansive yawn I've ever seen outside of bed in the morning. Dude was going off.

How can anyone lack so many social graces and still run a business?

Toot! Toot!