Les Ombres Part Deux: Colton Steele Gets Trapped

Les Ombres Part Deux: Colton Steele Gets Trapped

The Great Tank Top Rebellion

It was a rare, beautiful weekend in Memphis.

I mean not just beautiful, but picture-perfect. The skies were blue. The clouds were fluffy and white. The temperatures hovered around 80. And it was late on a Sunday afternoon. We had been out at the ballfield to watch Hotass play softball. (The Pumping Station Heat won their two games. Go Heat!) And it was still early enough in the afternoon that we were hungry and feeling like we could pack away a drink or four.

One of the best patios in Memphis is Bosco's. Conveniently located in Midtown, Bosco's serves up some good homebrew as well as a kick-ass pizza. So on this late spring Sunday afternoon, we thought we'd blow up into Bosco's and enjoy the afternoon.

Now mind you, we were dressed casually. Shorts. Sandals. And, yes, some among us were wearing tanktops or at the least a muscle shirt.

Five us of walked in. The hostess looked right us and proceeded to walk away to the bar, where she said to the bartender, "I need to ask you a question." The bartender noticed us and pointed at us as if to say, "You dumb girl, you've got a table of five ready to be seated." She came back, grabbed some menus and proceeded to lead us to the patio.

We passed a table of Bosco's servers, probably on their break or ones who had just been cut. And one shouts out as our hostess leads us to the patio, "Hey! No tank-tops!"

As our polite, but seemingly oblivious, server showed us to a table on the patio, which was sparsely occupied by smokers and a few others, another one of Bosco's staff burst through door and reiterated what had been shouted out by the off-duty servers. "I'm sorry but you can't wear tanktops."

Wha?

"We don't allow tanktops but we'll be glad to give you a t-shirt to wear."

Excuse me? But what about girls with their skinny little spaghetti straps and their cleavage hanging out over their Flaming Stone?

Apparently, boobs are ok.

We all declined the Bosco's t-shirts and quickly made our exits, muttering to everyone within listening distance how stupid and decidedly sexist the Bosco's dress code was.

To Bosco's credit, they do post on their front door "Appropriate Attire Required." But that's it.

I agree that businesses reserve the right to decide what dress is appropriate for their customers. For example, I wouldn't expect Paulette's, right next door to Bosco's. to let us in wearing only t-shirts, sandals and shorts. That's why we chose Bosco's, because Bosco's has a casual menu, a full homebrewed beer selection and a fairly casual atmosphere.

But at Bosco's there is no definition of what exactly is appropriate attire. Is it coat and tie? Perhaps it's Japanese kimonos? Maybe only Eskimo parkas are appropriate? Who can say? It's pretty commonplace for "No shirt, no shoes, no service." But come on. We were wearing sandals (as were most of the women, and a few of the guys.) And it's not as if manboobs were exposed to everyone. And our only sin was that our sleeve-line rose up two inches above where it could have been.

Secondly, if this was a Bosco's policy, how come our hostess and the bartender,who so politely pointed out to her that we were ready to be seated, weren't aware of this policy? It would seem like the hostess would be the first line of defense against the undesirables who come through the front door in tanktops.

Thirdly, let's talk about the assholes who were on break or had recently been cut. If we were indeed in violation, was it really good customer service for the cut staff seated at a booth drinking their pints of beer and counting their tips to shout out "Hey! No tank tops!" as we walked by?

The bottom line is that a business can adopt any policy it wants for its customers. If you only want black people in line green plaid sportcoats, it's a free country. Whatever you think will make you money or satisfy your cockeyed sense of capitalism.

However, be consistent and be sensible. So a girl wants to walk in a spaghetti strap tank dress with her tits bulging out of it. Big deal. Just don't be indignant when a guy walks in a tank top. At the worst, he's showing his pit hair and maybe some side flaps. But I've seen some girls who show the same damn thing.

So tell me... who was in the "wrong" in this scenario?

Guess What I'm Thinking About

maninmemphis.muxtape.com

Just a Passing Reminder

What follows sounds like it came from one of those passed-along email forwards, and if I didn't forward it to five of my friends by midnight, gorillas would eat all the cheese in the world and I wouldn't find love until I was 40. I usually delete those emails without regard for the world's cheese supply.

Nevertheless, I got a random friend request on mySpace (from some guy who already has 6,313 friends) and when I went to his page, one of the first things I saw was this:

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will.

You will have your heart broken, probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken.

You'll fight with your best friend.

You'll blame a new love for things an old one did.

You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love.

So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.

Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.

LIVE SIMPLY.

LOVE GENEROUSLY.

CARE DEEPLY.

SPEAK KINDLY.

LEAVE THE REST TO GOD.

And on a day when I'm really tired, borderline cranky and generally feeling unappreciated, it was a good reminder to slow down and enjoy the little happy's in life.

Tonight, I promise to take too many pictures.

Highlights of the Day

I left work at noon today because I had an appointment at the "happiest place on earth." No, not Disneyland. The happiest place on earth has to be 201 Poplar. Yes, that was sarcasm dripping on you.

For you non-Memphians, that would be the county courthouse, and it is positively the most - as my friend Pink Lady would say - unfortunate place in the city. Seriously, there are some sad, sad people down there, and really, what do they have to be happy about? They're in court. They're going to jail, or they're paying fines -- unless they were me and had the ticket for expired registration and not having valid proof of insurance dismissed.

But seriously, just because you're going to jail, does that give you an excuse to look bad?

When I left court, I got a massage. You see, I pulled a muscle in my lower back over the weekend, and it's gotten sore-er and worse-er since Saturday. Yesterday at work I couldn't stand up straight. It hurted. Bad.

Last night, LarryD bought me dinner and Darvocet. Yes, that's sweet, but what's sweeter is that when he called to ask what I wanted for dinner, I said something from Jason's Deli. He asked what side I wanted. Soup? Chips? Fries?

Fries?, I said. I want fries but Jason's doesn't have fries, so just get me potato salad.

When LarryD showed up with dinner, he had fries. Nothing says love like french fries. I love that man.

Last but not least, today is the day I've been looking forward to for a couple of months now. Madonna's latest album, Hard Candy, was released today. Guess what I'm listening to?

Tootie's Jellybean Holder

I don't know why I don't remember this. This was my favorite TV show in the early 80s.

In this light, treehugging Has Never Looked Better

Okay, so I apologize that I missed the Earth Day post, but in my web wanderings yesterday, I came across this, what simply must be the most fabulous eco-friendly item this year: ILLUMINATED WALLPAPER.

The inventor has yet to make it clear how it works, but somehow this wallpaper uses e-ink and organic light-emitting diodes (very low energy consumption) to make the electronic components paper-thin and capable of being rolled or flattened into a two-dimensional surface.

You can turn it off and on like a lamp, and when it's off, you can't even tell that it's a light source.

Summer Came Crashing to a Halt

In case you've been checking out the blog of MFLFWAAA (my favorite lady friend with an Adam's apple), you already know that our boys on the Heat softball team didn't play so hot. They lost their first and second games, but by golly, they gave it their best effort. Perhaps Heat refers to what they are supposed to apply to their sore muscles after every game.

And in the case of one member of the team, the first and second games of the season were also his last. During what can only be described as a valiant effort to safe third base, my Larry-D fractured his right shoulder. He played the rest of the game, had drinks at the Pumping Station, grilled out kebabs with the boys -- all the time in some serious pain.

He's out of commission from work for the whole week, and is all strapped up in a sling (not that kind of sling!!).

So perhaps he'll sit this summer out, joining Andrew Joseph and I in stands with Black Box wine.