November 30, 2008

your clothes say disco but your eyes say rock and roll

Googling the word, "groupies" gets you a full-on wiki article on the subject, as well as a bunch of names of people who do things that I don't know because I wasn't born yet.

Google image searching groupies sends you pages of jpegs featuring various Caucasian females in small tight shiny garments. I see no musicians in these photos. I do see lesbians however.

This is me, half-assedly researching who/what groupies are, considering I am being paid to be one of four, for a Flight of the Conchords episode shooting this week. The only well-known groupie I know is fictional character, Penny Lane (AKA Kate Hudson), from Almost Famous. And even then, she insisted she was a "band aid." But I'm pretty sure she was schtupping that dude in the fictional rock band in the movie...

Man, I'd really love one of those shaggy 70s coats. I've always sort of fancied them but I remain apprehensive. They can be pretty corny. Fur-lined things in general are always a bit borderline corny. I guess sometimes I am corny. Shh.
Let's talk about Fairuza Balk now... I'm sorry but I will never get over her in The Craft ("He's sorry! He's sorry! He's sorryyyy!")

But more importantly,
Does this mean I am to make sexual advances on Bret and/or Jermaine?
Because I totally will.



Speaking of corny, I think I will try to make it my personal goal to swipe one of Bret's sweatshirts with wolves in a forest howling at the moon or something like that on it.


There's been this older gentleman who comes into my store once in a while and he bought the same shirt twice, this thermal tee made of some of the softest stuff Alternative Apparel offers. He always smiles at me and I give my customer service spiel to him and I get the feeling he checks me out. I don't know.
The dude's like 60 with white hair and all, but he's handsome for a 60 year old dude and has a boyish look to him with smile lines around really bright clear blue eyes. Freckled tanned skin, like he probably owns a yacht or summers in Cape Cod or something. I recalled the first time he came in I asked if he needed help with anything and he said something like "just an excuse to talk to you." I recall laughing nervously and walking away to look busy elsewhere.
He came in again today and handed me some business card of his, an old-fashioned label-ticket looking thing. The kind of ticket that gets tied to your dry cleaning. The name of the shop he owns stamped on it in courier new font. He said he liked the cut of my jib (my words, not his) and if I was ever looking for work elsewhere to come check out his store. This boutique in Soho that specializes in khaki and soft cotton shirts. I Googled this shop to find no website, but several reviews about how soft their shirts are and how well the pants are made and how attractive the sales staff are.

It was then I realized- yeah. He was totally looking me up and down and it wasn't just my imagination. Ew. He's like the Dov Charney of the country club crowd.

No comments: