Brushes with Greatness: Oddball division.

I think you deserve some sort of award for coming up with the most enticing A2K thread titles.

And I happen to love that fur coat.

I was in Paris, and utterly broke, no credit cards. E.G. had joined me but he had hardly anything either and we were wandering around searching for something decent to eat. (But it was Paris, so we were enjoying the wandering.) I saw a flash of what seemed like sign language out of the corner of my eye -- that's often a false positive, just people gesturing. Looked closer, nope, it was actually signing! Cool!

Then noticed that the very flamboyantly-dressed ladies were actually flamboyantly-dressed men. I remember large wigs, short skirts, and high heels, all in VERY bright colors.

I don't remember the exact order, but I decided to approach them, they were a bit wary at first, I explained that I was deaf (big "oh!"s and welcoming smiles) and that I was American (more exclamations) and asked if they had any recommendations for someplace for us to eat that would be both good and cheap.

They knew JUST the place, but they weren't satisfied to tell us where it was, they had to lead us there. So a trio of very tall, very black, very sweet French transvestites led us several blocks, chatting all the way, to a very good little restaurant, gave us hugs, and went on their way.

Is sign language a universal language? Or do you know French signing?

What a great story, soz.

I'm betting that was Gus too.

My story seems so ..... boring in comparision to yours. Perhaps I will have to tell about being arrested and my brush with greatness (and fame!) while jailed.

There was a guy who used to live in my town who would walk out into the middle of traffic with a small transistor radio with a fork stuck in the hole where the antennae should have been.

He would point the radio in the air and try to catch signals in order to change the traffic light, so he could keep the traffic flowing in a smooth fashion.

I escorted him off the street several times. So has almost everyone else in this small community.

French Sign Language has about the same relationship to American Sign Language as British English does to American English. About 200 years ago deaf Americans were taught (French) sign language by French educators, and that's what caught on, with some regional variations. I think the two languages are something like 70% the same.

I can understand deaf French signers with no particular problem, but British signers are impossible (completely different signed language).

That's interesting, soz. I've always wondered about that.

Out with the jail story!!

Yeah, I'm interested in boomer's jail story as well. I have quite a few jail stories myself. I have been in jail in at least twenty states.

Let me think about this. I am going to try to figure out exactly how many states I have been jailed in.

For what? Indicent exposure?

No. For spelling indecent incorrectly.

Those spelling police are a tough lot.

I just wanted to change it, but couldn't - you were too fast
to reply.

My <ahem> exposure was pretty decent back in the day. Nobody complained, anyway.

My jail story is not really all that exceptional except for the beautiful transvestive prostitute I befriended and the fact that I miraculously had the foresight to re-start smoking immediately after being arrested so that I had time to hit the cig machine and show up in jail with currency and the fact that I was recognized (loudly and by name) while being escorted to the holding cell so that I went in with some instant street cred and all my cell mates wanted to know my "story" and share my cigarettes and respected me enough to let me pee with a bit of privacy.

I never did learn who recognized me. I knew as many cops as criminals so it really could have been anyone. I owe a big thank you to whoever it was.

Ahhh jail.

Every girl should spend a few hours there. Especially if they never have to deal with that whole judge/court/blahblahblah stuff.

I'm innocent-ish I tell you!

Along the same vein....
This ebay ad is hilarious.
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayisap.dll?ViewItem&item=8335653541#description

Oh crud, Ceili, the ad has been removed. What was it?

Sorry about that. Here is the Ad.


Winning bid: US $102.50

You are bidding on a mistake.

We all make mistakes. We date the wrong people for too long. We chew gum with our mouths open. We say inappropriate things in front of grandma.

And we buy leather pants.

I can explain these pants and why they are in my possession. I bought them many, many years ago under the spell of a woman whom I believed to have taste. She suggested I try them on. I did. She said they looked good. I wanted to have a relationship of sorts with her. I'm stupid and prone to impulsive decisions. I bought the pants.

The relationship, probably for better, never materialized. The girl, whose name I can't even recall, is a distant memory. I think she was short.

Ultimately the pants were placed in the closet where they have remained, unworn, for nearly a decade. I would like to emphasize that: Aside from trying these pants on, they have never, ever been worn. In public or private.

I have not worn these leather pants for the following reasons:

I am not a member of Queen.
I do not like motorcycles.
I am not Rod Stewart.
I am not French.
I do not cruise for transvestites in an expensive sports car.

These were not cheap leather pants. They are Donna Karan leather pants. They're for men. Brave men, I would think. Perhaps tattooed, pierced men. In fact, I'll go so far as to say you either have to be very tough, very gay, or very famous to wear these pants and get away with it.

Again, they're men's pants, but they'd probably look great on the right lady. Ladies can get away with leather pants much more often than men can. It's a sad fact that men who own leather pants will have to come to terms with.

They are size 34x34. I am no longer size 34x34, so even were I to suddenly decide I was a famous gay biker I would not be able to wear these pants. These pants are destined for someone else. For reasons unknown - perhaps to keep my options open, in case I wanted to become a pirate - I have shuffled these unworn pants from house to house, closet to closet. Alas, it is now time to part ways so that I may use the extra room for any rhinestone-studded jeans I may purchase in the future.

These pants are in excellent condition. They were never taken on pirate expeditions. They weren't worn onstage. They didn't straddle a Harley, or a guy named Harley. They just hung there, sad and ignored, for a few presidencies.

Someone, somewhere, will look great in these pants. I'm hoping that someone is you, or that you can be suckered into buying them by a girl you're trying to bed.

Please buy these leather pants.

Ha! Hilarious.