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2004-09-13 - 11:10 a.m. Roxanne
A shirtless man in public is very unsettling to me. You don't see respectable business men out on their lunch breaks stuffing their ties and their starched white shirts into the back pocket of their Dockers as they stroll down Fourth Street to Starbucks. You don't see stuff like that unless you're walkind down my street, obviously, or driving through Price Hill on the Wessssiyyyyde (throwing gang symbols). In these aforementioned areas, if you are a male, and it is above 72 degrees and you begin to feel hot, it is not even a question. Simply remove your Nascar shirt and place it into the back pocket of your black jean shorts NO MATTER WHERE YOU ARE. Although, I might note for your amusement that I've seen a couple of females adopt this same policy during a trip up Warsaw Avenue one hot summer evening. So there I am walking down the street with Gavin and Shirtless Guy is standing there a few yards ahead. I'm sorry, but unless you are L.L. Cool J. or Mark Wahlberg LEAVE YOUR SHIRT ON!!!!! I've encountered him before while he was sitting on his front porch a few weeks ago. That time he was wearing a shirt. I gave him a courtesty smile and he just scowled at me as if though he were envisioning which limb he would dismember first. (insert shrieking violin music here). My courtesy smile quickly faded as my huge eyes stared in the other direction wishing I could somehow make myself, my son and the stroller invisible just as a safety precaution. Should you pass this guy's house after the sun has set, it is interesting to note his choice of interior lighting. A single red bulb glows from a shade-less lamp. However, sometimes he opts for the green bulb. Maybe it is some sort of code. "Uh oh. Cleetus has his red light on again... You know what that means..." Sadly, I can only speculate. Or maybe Roxanne was visiting and SHE was the one who turned it on, even though she didn't have to.
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