February 1, 2014
Dear guy in the hotel elevator yesterday morning
I will be the first to confess I am not a hand with the ladies, I don't even try. I will further admit that I am no slave to fashion. My business attire runs to Dockers and dress shirts. This I do know; you are forty or forty-five. The wrinkles on your forehead and around your eyes give it away and your foot-long ponytail looks plain silly.
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2 comments:
It's the old sad I wanted to be a hippy look. Oh, and by the way the ones I have talked to are usually jerks.
James Old Guy
I hate that guy.
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