The other night I was hanging out with ... . We had a couple of drinks and started walking down LQA to a sushi place.
She and I have been friends for a few months now, but we haven't really walked around my neighborhood, and when I greeted someone I knew (a bouncer from Ozzies) as we walked down the street it was no big deal. Ten seconds later, when I saw someone else I knew (Marriage Material, as mentioned in the April 19, 2008 "Memory + Apathy = Creeping Out Civilians" blog) ... made a comment about how I was sort of a celebrity.
No big deal, but a minor ego boost (fueled by the whiskey being metabolized in my system, no doubt).
After sushi, we walked the same street back to my place and I saw a third person I knew (an attractive waitress from Ozzies, and I will heretofore refer to her as "Whatshername" because I have no idea what her name is)... I waved, thinking that it was another friendly acquaintance, cementing ...'s hero-worship of me once and for all.
Instead, Whatshername kinda started busting on me. And by "kinda" I mean "totally". There was a rapid string of chides, all focused on my denim (I was wearing boot-cut jeans which were a bit less tight than some I wear):
"Your pants aren't tight enough!"
"I can't see where you're keeping your wallet!"
"I didn't know you had non-paint-on pants!"
Stuff like that. I kept walking, knowing (somehow) that she had worked this material up in advance, just waiting to spring it on me some time when she noticed that I was dressing with less-than-tight jeans on.
Awesome. ... was not impressed. Although she WAS confused by the lack of capitalization on "Pants".
I got over it (not really, but seemingly) and we went to get some gum at a mini-market. As we entered, who was exiting the store?
Shawn Kemp. The Reign Man. One-time NBA superstar. Long-time fatherer of out of wedlock children (12 or 13 at last count).
I said, "Hello, Mr. Kemp" as we walked by, and he replied, "Hi, guys" as he walked out of the store.
He then did something odd: he came back into the store as we checked out the gum selection, or I looked at nutritional info on Twinkies, or something equally important.
Reign Man didn't buy anything. He didn't say anything. He just stood there.
Once we made our purchase, we left. Kemp followed, a few steps behind. We waited for the "walk" signal and he stood outside his big black SUV (symbolism) and then he got into his ride and ... just sat there.
If he wasn't checking ... out, I would be shocked.
Or maybe he, too, knew me and was trying to figure out where I was keeping my wallet.
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