So three nights ago I bought jeans at a local market. The color was good, and the waist was a good fit, but it turns out, um, that they were a little tight in the leg area and elsewhere. If any readers out there know why Jay-Z "don't where skinny jeans," you will know what I'm talking about.
Anyway, I looked absurd, my ham-hock thighs were about to rip the jeans at the seams, and I felt like a hippo at a Mountain Goats concert--a hipster-potomaus, if you will--with the combination of my fat legs and these skinny jeans.
Okay, and finding a way to use the word "hipster-potomaus" isn't the huge accomplishment--though, let's all take some time to admit that I am really great and that the fact I have gone 85 posts without punning on the idiotic vapid word "hipster" is a feat in itself.
[Sidebar: this is post 86, which is OFFICIALLY one more than previous awesome blog "Four Forties for Obama." Zach, if you're out there--let's do that again for something. Internationally. Maybe for Sotomayor's swearing-in. Diez y cinco Coronas por Sotomayor? (Is it terribly offensive that all I can think of is Coronas and yet Sotomayor is not at all Mexican?) We'll work on the title later.]
No, the big accomplishment is that I was able to exchange the jeans--explain why I did not like them, ask for a new pair, explain what I was looking for in the new pair--all in Thai. This guy spoke no English and I Thai-ed the shit out of him. For a closet linguistic nerd like myself (well, maybe not so closet--the portmanteau rate of this blog is shocking--
Here's a free line of dialogue for all of you aspiring playwrights out there.
A: How can I learn to stop using so many portmanteaus?
B: Join a supportmanteau group.
--anyway, yeah, I have new jeans now (sorry Elena) and they fit a lot better and don't make me look like Michael Clarke Duncan in Baby Gap clothes.
I'm going to take a nap, which I am also proud of.