Blogging With Mr. Henshaw

Dear Mr. Henshaw,

I can't tell you how I really feel because half the internet is reading. But well, you know, today is going pretty good. I had orange juice and toast for breakfast. No non-fat yogurt for me! I am really excited about the rest of my life because it seems like it will be such a solid, stark contrast to the pre-rest of my life. I wonder if other people feel the same? I was walking down the street today and this guy would not get out of my way, so I ... well, let's just say I had very impolite thoughts about him, and they might have included references to his inbred mental deficiencies. I hope that doesn't offend any of my ret-... retired readers out there!

A funny thing happened in the bathroom today, ... anywhoo ... what else to say? I am getting nervous about some of the crap that's going on in my life, but I'm kind of afraid to talk about them here because I know half the internet is reading. I mean, did I say afraid? I'm not afraid of anything - come on! I am an American! Not that I have anything against any Anti-Americans who may be reading (hi, Osama, I read your journal, it was hot!), but suffice to say I wouldn't want to show any weakness here, that would be embarrassing, and I've heard rumors that identity thieves prey upon weak internet victims.

This ... friend of mine ... is having a lot of trouble with his job. His boss is a total A-HOLE and won't shut the hell up. Or so he says. I mean, what would I do in that situation? I'll tell you what I'd do, I'd take my fu-bleeping keyboard and shove it up his fruity patootie, that's what. I'd get up out of my desk right this minute and walk over to his office and I'd give him a piece of my mind. Why I ought to... tell my friend how I feel about that.

One but not both of my parents (are you there? I love you!) are driving me up the wall! I can't believe him/her! When is s/he going to leave me alone and let me live my own life? Suffice to say the OTHER parent is fantastic! I love them both but s/he has always been my favorite (hi!). Anyway, if you are reading, mom, dad but not both, we should really talk this out because it's eroding our relationship. I would tell you how I really feel, but half the internet is reading!

With cordial but not lovey-dovey feelings, your friend,

RainbowTrout79

The Magic of Harry O

So I am going to a wedding with my girlfriend that is "black tie", meaning I have to either buy or rent a tux. I decided to buy one. I was just going to do the Mens Wearhouse generic route until I happened to stumble into "Harry O Menswear" yesterday (on 2nd btw Howard & Mission). This place is fucking unbelievable! (emphasis on the swearing)

Harry O is a tall, goateed man with a sort of manic swagger and high pitched Bronx accent. He is the first menswear salesman I've met who uses profanity in every spoken sentence. I went in yesterday and asked if he had tuxedos, "Fuck man do I have tuxedos? Shit, look at this, I got notch collar, I got shawl collars, I even got some pimping shit over here."

So of course I was instantly sold. I thought it over, and decided to go back today and buy one. He proceeds to take out a couple tuxes and show them to me. "We can go with the shawl collar or the notch collar", he says as he lays them on the table.

"I was thinking I would just go with the notch."

"Fuck the shawl collar, who wants that shit?" He yells as he tosses it aside. So we pick a tux and he gets me set up for a fitting. Getting fitted at Harry O's means trying on the suit and having an espresso (or mineral water, or whatever) while he painstakingly fits you. This was NOTHING like Men's Wearhouse where they turbo fit you in a jiffy. He spent like almost 45 minutes just adjusting little things and then spying over my shoulder into the mirror until finally he stands up straight, claps his hands together, and proclaims, "FUCK I'm good!"

I asked him about the Italian brand on the suit, and he looks up at me, eyes brightening, and says:

"This shit is pure Dago, man! this is the real Italian shit. Pure Dago."

So I get back into my normal clothes and head up to the counter to pay. He gives me the 20% discount which is going right now, which helped, because it knocked $100 off the price of the tux. Then he gave me a little discount on the alterations, which he may in fact do for everybody. After I'd paid and was about to leave, he thanked me for coming in, and I told him I really appreciated all the time he spent on the fitting. He responds, as I am leaving:

"Fuck, baby, you know I love you! I'm Harry O!"