This is a true story. As such, I have taken every pain here to not be sued. Names have been changed for various reasons; most of them to protect those who know better.
I have a friend, we'll call him...Carlton. Now Carlton has a lady friend, (lady friend being different from girlfriend,) we'll call her...Mary. Carlton and Mary, having known one another in the past, and having recently reunited, fell easily and deeply into one another. Well...as deeply as two people who just re-met could be expected to fall into one another. Deep, but let's call it, "able to tread water and get back to shore pretty easily," deep; not, "fuck we are going to die out here and it's your fucking fault," deep.
Anyway...
Together, as they were, they decided to go to a party,... um, together. This party, being a gathering of her friends, not his, I believe was something important to Mary. As such Carlton took it seriously and, being the man he is, dressed according to his mood. On this evening his mood included a camouflage cap.
I must aside, again...
This is not a bull-shit, red neck trucker, mesh in the back, gas station cap. this is a nice, military looking cap, clean, no sweat rings.
Mary..., did not approve of the cap, not one bit. Mary threw a bit of a tantrum over the hat. Her tantrum included, and these are the juicy bits:
The night still young, love blooming fresh in their hearts, the young couple decided to carry on with the evening. It was only, after all, a disagreement over wardrobe. A woman, telling a man what he cannot wear to an engagement in her company. Another blog post, that arguement. Women thinking they can dictate a mans sense of outer self. You, women are allowed free reign to present yourself to the world as you please, and we are expected to accept it, and pretend to like it even if we secretly believe you dress like a fhrump. Yes I said FHRUMP!
I can picture the drive to the party:
Soothing John Mayer tunes on the stereo as she negotiates them through the streets, her compass more finely tuned to their destination after years of practice navigating it. She looks over towards him; he sits comfortable in the seat next to her.
"You aren't angry are you?" She asks him.
"Nope. The hat though, may be pissed."He says.
"How can...?" She can see him thinking, his mind going over the situation as she speaks, tuned to every nuance, inflection change, slip of the tongue. "Okay," she says, "fine, I'm sorry. I really am."
'Me too." he says.
A bit of insider information here:
Carlton, is a different sort of guy. I like to say I too am a different sort, which is why, I believe, he and I get along so well. We are not your average sort. Now, with that said, he is more a Jedi and I am more of a Sith. He, is Alan Shore and I am DENNY CRANE. Denny Crane. So he most likely wouldn't have thought much of the small battle. He would have looked forward to a fun and interesting evening. The part I like most is that I am without a doubt, her guard was completely down. Can any one say, "Muuuuwaaaahhhhhhaahahahaha!"?
Imagine, if you are able, a normal looking man. Still technically a young adult, but officially a grown ass man; all antics aside. He is well dressed and clean cut, almost a model, eligible american male. His companion for the evening is equally all the other stuff, but a woman instead. Together, and I have to tell you I've witnessed this, they are a very attractive couple. I would be pleased to know, when I opened the door at my party, that they showed up. Continue to imagine with me, if you will, this attractive couple standing on your door step. If you like, as you imagine this, you can detail your background; maybe a couple of jack-o-lanterns on the porch, possibly a bat hanging from the eaves. As you reach out to greet this beloved couple he says:
"Heldo! Bie Nambe ishh tongue died."
What? You may think, "WHAT?"
"Tongue Tied." he says with a snicker as be breezes past you into the house.
Mary stood in the entry way with her friend, both of them looking off into the kitchen.
"What did he say?" Friend queries.
"I don't know what's going on..." Mary says.
The sounds of laughter from the kitchen draws the two into the fray. Tongue Tied is just flipping the top off a beer, never breaking character he says:
"'ere scee iz. By lobely date."
Some of you are going to remember Fat Albert and the Junkyard Gang. If, for some reason, you don't know who I'm talking about...sigh, YouTube it. In said show there is a character named Mush Mouth. You can't miss him, he's the one with the mumble, rocks his Beanie Cap like I do. Take that guy, but fill his mouth with a big ass tongue and a natural lisp. My friend...My Alan Shore... kept this character going all night long.
I, of course must aside:
Carlton is not an actor. He does not, as a career, hobby or general pursuit practice the theater arts. He is a financial analyst or something.
For the entire night, as smooth as the tide coming in, Carlton became the man Tongue Tied. He mumbled through conversations and lisped over drinking games. He laughed as Tongue Tied, he drank, danced, partied, sang his heart out as a man named Tongue Tied.
A few of Mary's friends had met Carlton, as himself. They at first, as respectable Texas ladies will, they all expressed concern for Carlton.
"Is he okay?" They asked Mary, hands wringing with anticipation of some disgusting malady worthy of report. At the break room counter, over a box of donuts they could break, the B.F.F. code of confidentiality.
"I have a friend," they'll say with a sneer, "whose boyfriend has speech impediments."
When they instead find that Carlton is physically, and mentally in one healthy piece, they rally an anti- Tongue Tied campaign.
Gentlemen, we have all, at one time or another in our lives, been the cause of, or a target of, a female "anti-anything" campaign. You will be plied with promises of fellatiatic feats and acrobatic anal. Or, threatened; like a dog regulated to the "dog house" if you do not obey the new mandate:
DO NOT, under any circumstance, ENTERTAIN, or ACKNOWLEDGE, Mr. Tongue Tied.
Ha, ha, yes women of the world, know one thing and remember it well. When a male of our species has committed himself to an act, no matter how foolish, we will support him, even if we hate him, to the bitter end of that act. We will cheer, film and share his fate with you all. But we will, under no circumstances, work against him. Any man that does is branded bitch and excluded from all further antics.
As it turns out Mr. Tied was a hit and is fast becoming a legend. He will still make appearances from time to time, mostly to get under Mary's skin. She is a great sport about the whole thing and is deeply sorry for the Angry Hat Incident. Lesson learned she moves on, continuing to love my friend and I am happy for them both. I thought, briefly to end this tale with a moral. But, there is no moral here. There are, however, a couple of lessons:
I have a friend, we'll call him...Carlton. Now Carlton has a lady friend, (lady friend being different from girlfriend,) we'll call her...Mary. Carlton and Mary, having known one another in the past, and having recently reunited, fell easily and deeply into one another. Well...as deeply as two people who just re-met could be expected to fall into one another. Deep, but let's call it, "able to tread water and get back to shore pretty easily," deep; not, "fuck we are going to die out here and it's your fucking fault," deep.
Anyway...
Together, as they were, they decided to go to a party,... um, together. This party, being a gathering of her friends, not his, I believe was something important to Mary. As such Carlton took it seriously and, being the man he is, dressed according to his mood. On this evening his mood included a camouflage cap.
I must aside, again...
This is not a bull-shit, red neck trucker, mesh in the back, gas station cap. this is a nice, military looking cap, clean, no sweat rings.
Mary..., did not approve of the cap, not one bit. Mary threw a bit of a tantrum over the hat. Her tantrum included, and these are the juicy bits:
- Snatching the hat from Carlton's head
- Running about the house with it, playing a sort of semi-serious keep away game.
- and...wait on it...hiding the cap and preventing Carlton from wearing it.
I have to give her some credit for winning the keep away game. Determined, she was and as such she won the day. But the display in the process was... unbecoming. I find no reason to embarrass the woman further. This should be enough punishment, spreading her silly antics all over my blog space. And, normally it would be, enough I mean, to stop the story here. But if I were going to do that I wouldn't have changed the names of the innocent, I wouldn't be justified in using two titles, and I wouldn't be paying homage to me Hombre!
The night still young, love blooming fresh in their hearts, the young couple decided to carry on with the evening. It was only, after all, a disagreement over wardrobe. A woman, telling a man what he cannot wear to an engagement in her company. Another blog post, that arguement. Women thinking they can dictate a mans sense of outer self. You, women are allowed free reign to present yourself to the world as you please, and we are expected to accept it, and pretend to like it even if we secretly believe you dress like a fhrump. Yes I said FHRUMP!
I can picture the drive to the party:
Soothing John Mayer tunes on the stereo as she negotiates them through the streets, her compass more finely tuned to their destination after years of practice navigating it. She looks over towards him; he sits comfortable in the seat next to her.
"You aren't angry are you?" She asks him.
"Nope. The hat though, may be pissed."He says.
"How can...?" She can see him thinking, his mind going over the situation as she speaks, tuned to every nuance, inflection change, slip of the tongue. "Okay," she says, "fine, I'm sorry. I really am."
'Me too." he says.
A bit of insider information here:
Carlton, is a different sort of guy. I like to say I too am a different sort, which is why, I believe, he and I get along so well. We are not your average sort. Now, with that said, he is more a Jedi and I am more of a Sith. He, is Alan Shore and I am DENNY CRANE. Denny Crane. So he most likely wouldn't have thought much of the small battle. He would have looked forward to a fun and interesting evening. The part I like most is that I am without a doubt, her guard was completely down. Can any one say, "Muuuuwaaaahhhhhhaahahahaha!"?
Imagine, if you are able, a normal looking man. Still technically a young adult, but officially a grown ass man; all antics aside. He is well dressed and clean cut, almost a model, eligible american male. His companion for the evening is equally all the other stuff, but a woman instead. Together, and I have to tell you I've witnessed this, they are a very attractive couple. I would be pleased to know, when I opened the door at my party, that they showed up. Continue to imagine with me, if you will, this attractive couple standing on your door step. If you like, as you imagine this, you can detail your background; maybe a couple of jack-o-lanterns on the porch, possibly a bat hanging from the eaves. As you reach out to greet this beloved couple he says:
"Heldo! Bie Nambe ishh tongue died."
What? You may think, "WHAT?"
"Tongue Tied." he says with a snicker as be breezes past you into the house.
Mary stood in the entry way with her friend, both of them looking off into the kitchen.
"What did he say?" Friend queries.
"I don't know what's going on..." Mary says.
The sounds of laughter from the kitchen draws the two into the fray. Tongue Tied is just flipping the top off a beer, never breaking character he says:
"'ere scee iz. By lobely date."
Some of you are going to remember Fat Albert and the Junkyard Gang. If, for some reason, you don't know who I'm talking about...sigh, YouTube it. In said show there is a character named Mush Mouth. You can't miss him, he's the one with the mumble, rocks his Beanie Cap like I do. Take that guy, but fill his mouth with a big ass tongue and a natural lisp. My friend...My Alan Shore... kept this character going all night long.
I, of course must aside:
Carlton is not an actor. He does not, as a career, hobby or general pursuit practice the theater arts. He is a financial analyst or something.
For the entire night, as smooth as the tide coming in, Carlton became the man Tongue Tied. He mumbled through conversations and lisped over drinking games. He laughed as Tongue Tied, he drank, danced, partied, sang his heart out as a man named Tongue Tied.
A few of Mary's friends had met Carlton, as himself. They at first, as respectable Texas ladies will, they all expressed concern for Carlton.
"Is he okay?" They asked Mary, hands wringing with anticipation of some disgusting malady worthy of report. At the break room counter, over a box of donuts they could break, the B.F.F. code of confidentiality.
"I have a friend," they'll say with a sneer, "whose boyfriend has speech impediments."
When they instead find that Carlton is physically, and mentally in one healthy piece, they rally an anti- Tongue Tied campaign.
Gentlemen, we have all, at one time or another in our lives, been the cause of, or a target of, a female "anti-anything" campaign. You will be plied with promises of fellatiatic feats and acrobatic anal. Or, threatened; like a dog regulated to the "dog house" if you do not obey the new mandate:
DO NOT, under any circumstance, ENTERTAIN, or ACKNOWLEDGE, Mr. Tongue Tied.
Ha, ha, yes women of the world, know one thing and remember it well. When a male of our species has committed himself to an act, no matter how foolish, we will support him, even if we hate him, to the bitter end of that act. We will cheer, film and share his fate with you all. But we will, under no circumstances, work against him. Any man that does is branded bitch and excluded from all further antics.
As it turns out Mr. Tied was a hit and is fast becoming a legend. He will still make appearances from time to time, mostly to get under Mary's skin. She is a great sport about the whole thing and is deeply sorry for the Angry Hat Incident. Lesson learned she moves on, continuing to love my friend and I am happy for them both. I thought, briefly to end this tale with a moral. But, there is no moral here. There are, however, a couple of lessons:
- Ladies, keep your hands off the cover, unless you are going to prop it on your head wit a sexy flair.
- Gentlemen: Did she swipe your cover? Did she throw away your favorite shirt? Does she dress you? Be creative in how you express your dislike for her behavior.
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