…when she said my male friend had to leave because “gentlemen are required to wear long pants after eight pm,” and it was 97 degrees out and the bar was totally empty. Which she had every right to do, because it’s a private establishment and she did not set the policy.
1. “This place has a pretty offensive name and logo for a conglomerate owned by a Scottish business dynasty, when you think about it. Do you think Edward Said would drink here? Moreover, how much of your job involves binary gender policing?”
2. “Oh, he’s no gentleman.” (male friend mimes tying me to a railroad track) “See?”
3. “I am an eccentric Texan oil billionaire, and I was going to buy this hotel chain, but now I’m going to buy the Westin group instead.”
(Go away, come back with Rodeo Drive store bags filled with glasses of artisanal gin and tonic.)
4. “Big mistake. Big. Huge!”
5. “Do you provide long pants for gentlemen who have forgotten theirs, as some establishments do with jackets? Perhaps just velcro extensions in a dark grey or navy blue?”
6. “Over the next two and a half hours, I’m going to change your mind. Through song, and possibly through dance. (clears throat) WHO WEARS SHORT SHORTS / WE WEAR SHORT SHORTS / THEY’RE SUCH SHORT SHORTS / WE LIKE SHORT SHORTS / WHO WEARS SHORT SHORTS WE WEAR SHORT SHORTS” (intake of breath) “WHO WEARS SHORT SHORTS / WE WEAR SHORT SHORTS / THEY’RE SUCH SHORT SHORTS / WE LIKE SHORT SHORTS / WHO WEARS SHORT SHORTS WE WEAR SHORT SHORTS”
7. “He has sensory issues in his shins, even the lightest of touches is agony. Watch!” (touch shin with fingertip, friend shrieks)
8. “I do not wish to embarrass you, but the man I am with is the famous singer-songwriter Jimmy Buffett, and he is contractually obligated to appear in shorts at all times. The only circumstance under which he is allowed to be garbed in full-length pants is if it is Australia Day, in remembrance of his January 26th, 2011 stage-falling accident. But this appears to be July, so.”
9. “What if we briefly threw up a curtain to shield him from sight until he is safely seated in a booth from which his legs cannot be seen? What if it were a human curtain, composed of you and I and people we would call into service from more popular bars that aren’t vacant due to clothing restrictions?”
10. “Can he and I just trade outfits? Because then I would be the one in conservative, knee-length khakis, and he would be wearing skinny jeans with a coffee stain on them.”
11. “You see a spectre of a man wearing shorts next to me?” (voice quavers in fear) “Does he…does he have dark hair?” (voice becomes solemn) “In life, I knew him as my husband, but in death, he follows me and menaces those who would seek to take his place or admit me to a bar that serves drinks.”
We just left, obviously, and went to a cheap place across the street that didn’t care.
Tags: humor, imaginary arguments, listicles, long pants, righteous indignation
Where is this place? I mean, it’s in 1930, obviously, but geographically.
Google says we get to choose from New York, London, Vegas, or Miami.
I assumed Vegas (because I’ve been to that one and that was the first thing I thought of), but it could very well be any of the other three. My guess is New York.
This is interesting, because the Mandarin Oriental establishments are renowned for their over-the-top service.
Ohh! Can we make this a game? I think London is right out because of “97 degrees.”
(My guess is NY.)
I’m thinking that they can’t possibly outlaw shorts in Miami, so I’m betting NY as well.
I’m also totally creepy, and because I follow Nicole on Tumblr I know she moved to a town right near my hometown, and NY is quite close.
Not so! It’s boiling in the uk this week!
Why is it so hot 🙁 Why 🙁
It’s in the Mandarin Oriental hotel on the Las Vegas Strip. It has a fabulous view — it’s right in the middle of everything and it has floor-to-ceiling windows. Drinks are crazy expensive ($18-20), but really tasty.
In related news, my husband still has a vendetta against Caramel in Bellagio because they denied him entry due to his choice of New Balance footwear.
It’s a proper listicle that can reference Jimmy Buffett and Edward Said.
AND a Pretty Woman reference!!
I’ve always been amused by the ‘tying someone to the railroad’ trope. It’s so funny and yet so cruel! And so labour intensive, I mean sheesh, just stab him already.
Why does the preview on the home page say *male friend gooses me* and on the article page it says *ties to railroad*?! I was so confused by this comment until I scrolled back up.
I edited it, but did not change the part that shows up as “excerpt.” Fixed now! SCIENCE.
Aw man, I thought I just had a superpower of looking back through time on the internet.
I’d like to see what happens if Jimmy Buffett and Edward Said sit down at a hotel bar together.
I have an idea! http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyedlmBh5Z1qhwg…
RELATED: How does image/gif pasting work in this comment system?
WOAH. I can’t unsee that now.
let’s see if it’s the same as the Pin:
Yup!
Good, now the world can see!
[SCREAMS]
But Jolie, they’re stainproof!
HEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPpp
YIKES. The look on that guy’s face is really smug, considering the amount of knee-pit sweat he must be dealing with.
Oh that’s just fucking great. Can’t wait for, “Dear Clean Person, how do I get knee pit stains out of my see-through pants?”
the chafing.
Well, I mean, the pants don’t look at all absorbent. So I’d say the knee-pit sweat probably just runs down his leg and pools in his socks. If that helps. At all.
Does everyone just have random gifs/ images on file to bust out at opportune moments? Do you have a “Jimmy Buffet-Edward Said” folder or a “Doctor Who-Pearl S. Buck” bookmark?
I have a massive ‘lulz’ folder. Recently we had to start renaming everything so I could actually find it for use in internet comment threads.
I just google.
For the record, this is the top result for “Dr Who Pearl S Buck”:
This made my morning.
I love that you just had this in the back of your mind somewhere to call up at will.
Some Asian billionaire should start a global hotel chain called the Tartan Occidental or something and fill it with bad Scottish kitsch and a restaurant that serves sweet whiskey drinks and fusion haggis where men must wear kilts after 8pm.
I would totally go there.
fusion haggis
hahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
*retch*
Fused with WHAT? It already contains things that should never be spoken of, what could be added?
This is very similar to the premise of this excellent video, which I hereby submit for Toasty perusal.
Hah. Look what I found.
hahahahahhaha “Elleau guvnah!”
so glad to know i’m not the only person who gets intense cases of “shoulda said”s.
I can relate. My life is “The jerk store called, and they ran out of you!”
You are so not the only one – the French even have a phrase for this, “L’esprit d’escalier” or “staircase wit”. All the cool shit you think to say as you’re walking away up the stairs from the ballroom.
l’esprit d’escalier sounds so much better than “shoulda said”. consider this term logged for future use… I just hope I remember it in the heat of the moment.
“Le magasin de salaud a appelé est il n’ont plus assez de vous”
I have no idea what you just said, but I liked it.
(This is my wife’s attempted translation of “the jerk store called and they said they’re running out of you,” after I explained the joke to her.)
Bahahahaaaaaaa. I’m going to use this on my next street harasser.
Or “le magasin de connards a appelé et ils sont en manque de toi!” I’d trust your wife’s, though, since she’s French. But I still prefer “connard.” Ooh, or “emmerdeurs”!
Apparently the exact translation of “jerk” is a vexing problem for French speakers.
I prefer “con” because you can really spit it out at someone, but that’s sort of more about being really stupid AND a jerkface.
Staircase Wit would have been the best alternate name for The Toast.
Ah, I just snatched your idea (ish). Hi everybody!!
Edith Wharton once called it ‘the belated eloquence of the inarticulate”, which I also like very much.
I always end up with my comebacks being just ‘fuck you’ which I feel lacks grace and wit.
I think that’s better than my frozen like a deer in headlights trying to process the assholery going on and finally spitting out something very cordial but with a furious tone.
Even if I say it in a stammery, shaky voice?
*whispers* “f-f-fuuuc-ck y-yoooouh” with squinty eyes. Yeah, still not as self-defeating and passive aggressive as, “OKAY HAVE A GOOD DAY NOW BYE BYE” with angry eyes.
“f-f- fuuuck yooou” followed by a whole evening of stewing in my own bile.
And then dagger eyes every time I see them or someone looks like them until the day I forget (never) or die (in 60 years or so).
God why can’t we be fearless and witty with acid tongues
I think your deer in the headlights is still better than my total obtuseness, not realizing someone said something mean/insulting til, like, later that night or the next day. Then I think about all the awesomely witty comebacks, 24 hours too late.
Eh, it’s simple and to the point.
I’m having that RIGHT NOW, since my total juicebox coworker (is there a female counterpart to juicebox, or is it gender-inclusive?) just asked me how many weeks I am.
HOW MANY WEEKS AM I? HOW MANY WEEKS ARE YOU, JACKASS?
(The fact that I AM pregnant is beside the point, since I am A) not even two months along, B) pretending that I don’t actually look pregnant, since I haven’t gained any weight, even though I am wearing my very comfy maternity jeans today, and C) obviously not sharing that with YOU, so STOP TALKING.)
(For real, this girl LOOKED at my STOMACH and said, “Are you sure?”)
Jackass.
oh my godddddddddddddddddddd. your username seems like an appropriate response.
I would straight up pull that shit on her in two weeks.
“Oh, aren’t you?” (stage whisper) “Maybe you should try switching to salad.”
Bahahaha EVIL and I likes it.
“Imaginary arguments” is the tag for most of my internal monologues.
word.
“Left to its own devices, my mind spends much of its time having conversations with people who aren’t there. I walk along defending myself to people, or exchanging repartee with them, or rationalizing my behavior, or seducing them with gossip, or pretending I’m on their TV talk show or whatever. I speed or run an aging yellow light or don’t come to a full stop, and one nanosecond later am explaining to imaginary cops exactly why I had to do what I did, or insisting that I did not in fact do it.”
That Anne Lamott passage has stuck with me since I read it when I was 14 and was reassured that other people’s brains did that too.
Wow! I’d never heard of Anne Lamott before, thank you! This describes me so well.
Oh, it’s from her book Bird by Bird, which is about writing but also life stuffs! 🙂
Thanks! Although, I was thinking about this the other day. Are there people who don’t talk to themselves?
There are. They don’t have very rich inner lives, as far as I can tell.
Hmmm. If their outer lives are half as rich as my inner life, I’d trade in a heartbeat, I think.
I dunno. Large parts of my rich inner life are completely terrifying.
That is my brain, too! I am so relieved this is a thing.
I had to do an interview for a government job once at a Mandarin Oriental (couldn’t interview me in the building because I didn’t have clearance yet) and a dude just started playing the grand piano in the middle of my interview. But I still got the job!
I wish they could make attractive zip-off pants. We can have robots but not cute AND practical clothing?
This would never have happened in CALIFORNIA, Nicole.
11. “You see a spectre of a man wearing shorts next to me?” (voice quavers in fear) “Does he…does he have dark hair?” (voice becomes solemn) “In life, I knew him as my husband, but in death, he follows me and menaces those who would seek to take his place or admit me to a bar that serves drinks.”
YES. ALWAYS RESORT TO GHOSTS.
#3 also makes you BRUCE WAYNE so yes go with that one.
#4 makes me love you so much.
I do agree that the “binary gender policing” is shitty, and I never take kindly to strangers with little to no authority telling me what to do or where to go or what the rules are. (Not to mention my problem with actual authority figures) That said, I have a self-inflicted policy that I do not wear shorts after dark in public. I mean it’s right there ^ in my personal description. And it’s not a foolish fashion rule, it’s just uncomfortable for me to have my legs exposed in bars at night. Maybe I associate that time with sloppy rowdiness and I don’t want beer or puke or worse splashed onto my delicate ankles OKAY? Sorry... I don’t know how you people do it. Now, if it’s really hot and there’s a tropical patio or body of water nearby, I’ll get as naked as socially acceptable, no prob, no matter the time.
I never knew Balk was responsible for the dress code at the Mandarin Oriental!
I never thought I would say this, but I would appreciate more Jimmy Buffet references in the future.
Yeah, but no, shorts are terrible. You’re lucky she let him in at all.
I just laughed so hard that now my stomach hurts so like… thanks for that, Nicole Cliffe.