While in line for a new SIM card at the T-Mobile store on Beverly Blvd. last Saturday, I saw something I will never un-see. A gentleman clutching a mannequin with matching clothes and hair was entrenched in conversation with a sales rep, most likely signing up for the family plan. I did my duty as a citizen journalist and documented the experience by discreetly photographing them until the salesperson waited on me. The resulting photos are below.
While I exchanged obligatory quips with a salesperson about the situation, the doll and her human suitor waited around quietly, then posed for a picture with one of the employees before leaving as two happy T-Mobile customers.
I’ve written a poem about an encounter I had with a lovely lady tonight while jogging at Pan Pacific Park. It’s also been posted on Craigslist Missed Connections. If you’re out there, anonymous Pan Pacific Park Jogging Girl, hit me up.
Pan Pacific Park Jogging Girl
Out of shape, so on a lark
Went for a run at Pan Pacific Park
While trying to avoid splints in my shin
Noticed a beauty with olive skin
Passed a weird guy conducting symphonies
We smiled and exchanged pleasantries
I sported a t-shirt that was plain and gray
But yours was loud with designs for days
Was it first sight interest?
Or just being nice?
Was it quickly dismissed?
Did you even think twice?
The hill got steep
My legs got sore
Please don’t think I’m a creep
Cause you don’t look like a whore
Our paths crossed three times and not once more
Though I was really hoping for number four
Had to stop when I got a cramp
I’ll hold out hope that you’re not a tramp
If I saw you one more time
I’d ask you out for a glass of wine
You’re my Pan Pacific Park jogging girl
Come find me and let’s give it a whirl
Unfortunately, my gift wasn’t always as dead on as it is now.
When I was a toddler whose primary public transportation was a stroller, I went to the mall with my mother.
She took me into a store to look at either spandex or dresses with large shoulder pads, no doubt, and a black child who was 6 or 7 years old came over and began to play with me. I giggled and responded as any 3 year old would.
Then I did something that embarasses my mother to this day.
As the kid continued to play with me, I turned to my mother, as excited as she’d ever seen me.
“Mommy, look! Webster! Webster!”
I had confused the random black child with 1980s television icon Emmanuel Lewis, the star of “Webster.” Worse off, I did it within earshot of the boy’s mother.
Mom’s face turned red and she apologized profusely. The mother, nor the child took offense. All the while 3-year-old Ryan Patrick had never been more excited.
Soon after, my mom put me on a leash during shopping trips. Whether or not it was related to my faux Webster sighting is a family secret that will never see the light of day.
The worst of it all is that 20 years later, I still regret not getting an autograph.
Edit: After reading this, my mother released the following statement:
“I put you on a leash because you used to hide under clothes racks and i couldn’t find you.”
It was another work week in the books. The weekly “Road Rules” episode breakdown, which is my job to write, had been completed. After a smooth, traffic-free drive down the 101, I parked my car and walked back to my apartment. Though the “don’t walk” sign was on, I jogged across the street since no cars were in sight.
That’s when I heard a voice from the shadows.
“Daddy,” it called out.
I continued my slow jog when I heard it again.
“Daddy, can I have a cigarette?” the voice asked.
I looked to my right and saw a strung out prostitute on the opposing corner of the street. My heart started pumping faster.
“I don’t have one, sorry,” I shouted.
Normally, I would have stopped once I crossed the road, but I kept going.
“Do you want to have sex? For free?” the hooker asked.
“No thanks,” I said to her.
As funny as this night of sure passion would’ve been for anyone who would ever hear the story, I decided it was in my best interest to decline. Being STD free works for me for some reason.
You always hear about people getting arrested for solicitation. She might’ve been an undercover cop trying to make a bust. Actually, if she was undercover, she would probably be the worst police officer in the world. Since she offered the sex for free, they couldn’t arrest me for taking her up on it. I would have beaten the SYSTEM.
So, I walked back to my apartment and called it a night. I didn’t get a great look at her, but she wasn’t fat.
Maybe if she was hot I would have taken her up on it. I think she had big boobs. And dating a hooker worked out for Richard Gere in “Pretty Woman.”