Hey!
Yeah: I know thisis a few years old, but it’s so . . . borderline sexist/cute/male, I had to run with it once I ran across the damned thing. I mean all those, things, BTW, in the good fashion.
Has anyone seen him and Ace in the same room at the same time? Oh, wait: I have. one of them is tall, acerbic and obnoxious. The other is short, bearded, acerbic and obnoxious. One drinks; the other doesn’t. I cannot recall which is which right now.
Joy: I would like to announce that I’m truly sorry to be carrying a brown handbag around when I’m wearing a black outfit to a formal dinner.
Rusty: You’re not serious.
Joy: Let me see: the only other female in the group is Goldstein’s wife, who is so ga-ga over her adorable husband that she barely remembers my name. Hey; have you looked at his arms? I mean, there’s no arguing with the way the man ‘s looks; and their child is even more gorgeous than they are. It’s ridiculous . . . I wonder whether their grandkids will all be models; it’s a shame to see all that beauty go to wa . . .”
Rusty: What I was trying to get at was the fact that most of us really don’t care if you are carrying a brown nylon purse. I mean, here we are, going to the Reagan Center, chance of a lifetime . . . and you’re focusing on your purse?
Joy: Okay; we’re removing Ms. Goldstein from the calculations, because she’s so gone over her husband, and because she’s so beautiful she probably can’t stand to look at the rest of us . . .
Rusty: I’m trying to set your mind at ease.
Joy: And I’m trying to point out that irony is an ever-present danger; just because you’ve been in my home doesn’t make you immune. Listen to me: are you a photographer? An art director/production manager/creative director at a print magazine? Are you a hairdresser? A photographer? A pre-press tech?
And you’re straight?
How fucking worried were you that I’d be judging you for judging me for carrying a brown purse with a black outfit? Are you tone-deaf? Insane? Secretly female?
For some reason, Rusty made a point of switching the nameplates last fall and not sitting next to me at the YAF convention dinner. And here I had though we were buds . . .
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