An Overdose of Double Entendre

Today, I was reading the news, and I came across an online article about San Francisco banning public nudity (ahem, at least year-round public nudity), and I was struck by the hilarious in-jokes of whoever wrote this thing. I have taken the liberty of reproducing the article below with red text to show the hidden messages between the lines:

It may have seemed like a done deal, but before San Francisco supervisors OKd the new nudity ban Tuesday, they had to massage it to conform to some unique city politics.

Beginning with the sentiment that not all public nudity is bad.

“It has its place,” said the nude ban author, Supervisor Scott Wiener. “We’re just trying to chart some kind of middle path.”

That has resulted in some pretty entertaining rationalizations.

For starters, the idea behind the ban is to protect children from the shock of seeing genitalia. Yet the ban exempts some very public events with politically powerful constituencies, such as the Pride Parade and the Folsom Street Fair.

“People at these events expect to see nudity,” Wiener said. “You can choose to go or not go. It’s not 365 days a year in a neighborhood.”

Fashion also played a role in the legislation, with bare butts being exempted as well.

“This legislation is really about genitals,” Wiener said. “I’m not looking to get anyone arrested because they are showing a plumber’s crack or wearing a bikini.”

Some questions, however, remain unresolved. For example, bare-bottom cowboy chaps are acceptable – but what happens when the bare buttocks bend over?

To be determined.

“Like I said, we’re trying to chart a middle path,” Wiener said.

You be the judge.


Business Casual

I have the privilege of being employed with a company that doesn’t require me to dress like a stockbroker.

On any given day, I can come to work dressed like an average joe in T-shirt and jeans. Of course, there are a number of highly ambitious people who dress to the 9’s in the hopes that they will be recognized by the upper management on Mount Olympus and appropriately elevated to that place of prestige for which they so often salivate.

A few years back, a previous supervisor of mine showed up in her standard power-packed pant suit, eye-balled my street clothing with disdain and quipped:

“Always dress for the job you want, not the one you have now.”

To this I replied:

“Hmmm, well, I long to be a brilliant writer with a potential alcohol problem. Since my jeans are well-fitting and this wrinkle-free T-shirt smells fresh like Downy, and I don’t smell like a heady cocktail of vodka and dry urine, I’d say I am fairly overdressed for the job I want, wouldn’t you?”

I never received a response. Go figure.

PDA: Public Displays of Arguing

Recently, I have found myself the innocent bystander to the opposite of publicly displayed affection: The very publicly displayed argument.

Two weeks ago, I rolled into a “Plain Jane” diner in my neighbhorhood for breakfast – a dive I fancy for its delicious coffee and magnificent waffles. Well, no sooner had I finished “15 minutes” of my clock-shaped waffle, I hear the following words from one of the two women in the booth behind me:

“I may be pregnant but at least I’m not a cokehead!”

My Midwestern manners kept me from turning around to catch the inevitable facial reaction. However, I could hear a murmur of tussling in the booth as our (accused) cokehead heroine grabbed her purse and left the establishment. I am assuming she left her pregnant friend to foot the bill. Typical behavior for a cocaine addict, in my opinion.

Unfortunately for me, I was 3-Deep into that previously-mentioned waffle to catch the upswing of this disagreement, so I was left wondering how a nice Sunday breakfast goes from “Hey, let’s have eggs and bacon together after church this Sunday,” to “You wanna keep the shit real? How about we substitute that bacon for Jerry Springer-style revelations on my lack of contraception and your ever-present nose dust?”

Bam, you just got served…

Prego              1
Cokehead        0

I got a dog in this fight…

Well, another U.S. election has come and gone. I suspect about half the country feels like a tsunami hit them and left nothing but chaos and wreckage behind it, while the rest are celebrating the victory of one of their most beloved Presidents. An even larger group probably never cared much to begin with and as such, won’t notice much of a difference.

All that said, I had a dog in this fight, and by that I mean Referendum 74  which has been approved by a majority of Washington state voters; marriage equality for same-sex couples is now legal in my current state of residence.

Since I had been rabidly following the polls for this initiative since early summer, I felt pretty confident that it would pass. The margins were always in its favor, however I did not anticipate the emotional impact it would have on me when it finally became approved with nary 52% of the vote. Seriously, this cranky ol’ sombitch got tears in his eyes. It was like watching a film montage of all the anti-gay moments I had experienced in my life culminate into a crowning moment of pure, brilliant light where that cold chain of disappointing events exploded like a hash brown supernova.

So yeah, it was a good night for me. I know that’s not true for everyone, and I never want to be someone who throws a political win in people’s faces, because I certainly didn’t enjoy it when my side lost in November 2004. However, I believe that bringing another minority under the umbrella of rights that everyone else enjoys will ultimately be a healthy thing for this country. I think in about 20 years (maybe less), people will wonder what the big deal was about gay marriage.

On a humorous note, I came across some subtle journalism humor on the night of the election:

About two dozen people attending the Reject R-74 party at a coffee shop in a strip mall in Lynnwood had earlier cheered very early returns that had shown Washington voters rejecting R-74. Later, with King County’s votes counted and the approve Ref. 74 side gaining the lead, the mood was more subdued but still upbeat.

Newsflash: If you are planning your “victory” party in a strip mall coffee shop, chances are the evening is not going to end well for you. LOL