You’re walking down the street and a woman is heading toward you and she’s walking her dog. It’s a little thing, a chihuahua or a spaniel or a chispaniel or something like that and it’s barely able to keep up with the woman because it has little legs and she’s pulling on the leash just enough to keep lifting it off the ground six inches at a time. The woman is smoking a cigarette and wearing large, dark sunglasses and as she passes you on your right she glances at you, or at least you assume she’s glancing at you because her glasses are very dark and for all you know she could be glancing past you and why do you always assume attractive people are looking at you and not something more interesting in the background?
As you head away from her you fight the urge to look back, to hopefully catch her also looking back, her little dog flying through the air as she turns quickly and heads back toward you, removing her glasses and biting her bottom lip as you say something smart and classy like, “Nice dog you’ve got there” or “Hey, what’s with the current oil situation?” or “I’ve always loved you, Mildred” but she’s not going to be turning around so you successfully fight the urge and you keep walking.
Then you look down and notice your right pocket is sticking out and you’re not wearing shoes, and you realize she was probably glancing at your little inside-out pocket or your dirty feet and you start to question why you’re even outside in this condition—especially with it being so hot out, I mean, what is it 120 degrees out here?—but then it strikes you that you’re not outside, you’re in a car and it’s driving very slowly in the ocean and you’re not even sure how it’s working at all, frankly, but it is and you’re moving along on the surface of the water in your car looking at your tuxedo tie which you can’t seem to get straight no matter how hard you try.
“Ugh, my neck is one gargantuan monkey fist.”
John O’ Hurley as J. Peterman, Seinfeld episode “The Foundation”
