Thursday night, a *man-boy with a *popped collared blue Polo shirt, khakis and a *Yacht Club Executive Haircut, was next to us at a bar with a posse of clones. These fine, young future business leaders of America were taking Jager-bomb shots. If you don’t know what a Jager-bomb is – you’re better off.
In an attempt to not judge a book by its cover (why, I never!) – I did my best to avoid coming to my own conclusions by ignoring these clowns completely. This worked well. It worked well until I look over, and Blue Polo is visibly harassing my friend, Gillian, who appears repulsed by what I can only imagine is Jager/barf breath through a spit shower.
Later, during the night re-cap, she relayed to me that he was saying things along the lines of (and she quotes) “Why aren't you paying attention to me? I need attention.”
JAW. ON. FLOOR.
At this point, I couldn’t help myself. I’m a glutton for batting around drunken preppy boys (a girl does not cocktail waitress in Nantucket and not pick up a couple of fun habits).
So I say: “May I ask what your name is?”
Collar Pop: “Shep. (hiccup) William Shepard Rose, the Third.”
Me: “You’re KIDDING ME! That’s even better than I thought it would be!!”
Collar Pop: “Shep - the Third.”
Me (to myself): “BLOG – the Third.”
*Man-boy, adj.: A male that appears to be a man, until he opens his mouth, and the fact that he is – (and will probably always be) a boy – is revealed.
*Disclaimer: I have been known to pop a collar in my day, and condone the gentle use of this fashion statement.
*The Yacht Club Executive Haircut, noun: The Executive Haircut, but longer, and seemingly wind-blown. See: “Steff” from Pretty In Pink.
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