Hey! Sporado-blogger Doubting Thomas has his own Jenn-blog#174; entry posted (mine’s here). Only, Doubtin’ T was feeling kind of…well, sultry this morning, so he went with the Jenn Noirtrade; narrative voice. [cue: oh, I don’t know….a soulful Kenny G sax lick, maybe? Whatever].
Anyway, here’s a teaser:
Later, drunken dining at South Street Diner. Table of cuties flirt with me. They freak and call me a liar when I say I am 39. ‘You look 29!’ they howl. One giggled and said, ‘I’d do you, 39 or 29!’ I tell them it’s good genes, no smoking, low carb diet, and daily runs — plus every morning I sacrifice small animals to my god, Baal. Perplexed looks by them convinced me they thought I was serious. They’re all 21 and go to Villanova. Cute kids, upper middle class, conservative politics, not real bright, and they all dress like Britney — right wing cock teases? God Bless America.
Man. Philly chicks are some serious hussies…
Hey Buddy,
I lived at 7th & South and married one of those Philly women.
My apologies then, Scott.
Or is it “condolences”? I can never remember.
Kenny G? Have you gone bonkers? We’re talking Noir Fiction, not Yuppie pseudo-Jazz affliction! Think Miles, Coltrane, Bird Parker, or T. Monk. I am sure you’ve just made Jim Thompson sit up in his grave and flip you the bird, Jeff.
Villanova chicks in a fluorescent-lit Dennys don’t get Miles or Monk. I imaged the scene more ironically, I suppose…