Wave of Miscellany!

The Dirty Truth, Thursday night. Lightning and thunder outside. Oxblood red walls. The music is loud...indiscernible....annoying. She sat alone. The light from her cell phone illuminated her face.
I imagined if I was closer, being able to read the text, reflected backwards but legible on her forehead: IT'S OVER. I'd walk over and say, "You look like you could use a drink and a shoulder to lean on." She'd say, "actually my boyfriend just texted me that his movie's over and he's on his way to meet me, so scram chump".
Roz's Place casts a neon glow on Bridge Street. Lately the staff has been hula-hooping out front to music from a boom-box on an extension chord out the door. They're getting good. I mean, no Ms. Sass but let's be realistic. Tim sometimes fixes up sweet old bikes and sells them out front for $60 or so. I bought a few. I keep them locked around town so there's always a bike nearby. I sometimes go into a trance and buy shirts there that I realize later are way too weird for me. In the store, in those surroundings, they seem normal. A gallery of shirts is below the hooper, who I hope doesn't mind the photos. I should have asked. I've played with the exposures a bit so the art hopefully trumps the candids.

The little pattern on the pocket is a tiki god but by the time you get close enough to see it and realize this is probably a hip lounge shirt you've already been hit with the Star Trek meets hospital johnny look triggered by the green stripe down the front that covers the buttons.

In your 20s, Hawaiian shirts are ironic and irreverent. When you're a middle-aged man, it's just a bad habit unless you're a Jimmy Buffet fan in which case you have bigger problems than fashion. Worst case scenario, a gut beneath a Hawaiian shirt. I think the shirts actually hasten the growth of the gut.

This one has the full Brady Bunch collar and a Charlie Brown on LSD optical illusion where the pattern shimmys and shivers before your very eyes.

Plus it's made out of some kind of porous mosquito netting that makes my nipples nervous.

Maybe they had some extra material after they made the curtains.

One sign says 11'. The other says 11'-0". Why the two different representations of the same height? My theory is the 11' sign was the original and when that didn't stop truckers they put one that said 11' right on the damn bridge and when THAT didn't work, they probably tried to get inside the truckers minds and what they found was "well, it's probably a few inches more than 11' and they're just being overly cautious and I can make it through at 11'5 or so no problem I bet breaker breaker 10-4 good buddy...." CRUNCH. So the new sign says 11' 0". Eleven feet and how many inches? NO inches. NONE. ZERO inches. It only goes to 11. And so it remains and still it happens on occasion. It's awesome too. Don't we all secrety love public mishaps?