That's Entertainment

It's when you start thinking well of yourself that the universe smacks you down.

Out walking by the ICA construction site this afternoon, I smiled at a guy on his smoke break and he lit up. "I love your smile! And those boots, wow, with that smile and those boots, you're going to make Spring happen!"

Those green and pink flowered rubber boots, best $2 investment I ever made.

Before I had too much time to revel in my ability to bring on the seasons, I learned I am, in restaurant parlance, a bar loser. Reading Bill Buford's "Heat" informs me that kitchen shorthand for a single diner at the bar is, well, bar loser and it's common knowledge how much time I've spent eating alone at bars.

Hopefully there's no comparable word for people who go to a show alone or I'm dead in the water, no matter the footwear.

Given the still partially snow-strewn sidewalks and monstrous puddles on the way to Gallery 5, the boots put in another appearance, although they had nothing to do with being greeted by the prettiest bassist in town telling me, "You're at all the good shows!"

Truth is, I had zero plans and went looking for something fun, only to find a stellar show of bands I'd never heard of playing at G5. Curiosity compelled me to listen to their three Bandcamp pages to get a feel for the sound of each.

Conclusion? I should have been planning to go to this show all along.

Besides the bassist, I knew only one person, the door guy who's a musician and occasional cross-dressing bingo caller. Most in the crowd had the telltale "X" on their hand signifying youth and device devotion.

Standing next to me were two young women who were pretty much non-stop on Tinder or discussing it, as in, "Tinder is dry tonight." You need to come to a show to discover that?

First up was Erik, who called himself Cat Be Damned which, under ordinary circumstances would no doubt win best band name of the evening, but not tonight.

Playing through his own songs (including one about Virginia rednecks "which I need to explain when I play it north of here, but you guys get it") as well as some by Bon Jovi, Ted Nugent and a friend named Joey who moved away, Erik proved that a guitar and a good voice is timeless.

He also scared himself when, glancing down during a song, he mistook his boot for a rat. Fear not, I've seen many scary things at Gallery 5 over the years, but never any rodents.

Closing with a plea, "If anyone's going to Elvis' show in Charlottesville tomorrow night, I could use a ride. My car crapped out," a girl in the crowd immediately yelled out, "I got you!" and he looked pleased.

It seemed like it was mere moments after he left the stage to major applause that Brooklyn quartet Cende was up there beginning their set and it occurred to me that with a crowd overwhelmingly underage, there was no point in allowing long breaks so people could go to the bar.

With the first few notes, Cende established themselves as one of my favorite musical genres: young man power pop. All four had haircuts that mirrored the Beach Boys circa 1965. Absolutely stellar live, their songs were short, fast and wildly energetic.

"This is our first time playing in Richmond," the lead singer and one of the guitarists said. "I love it. We had the best ice cream at, um, I don't know," and the crowd supplied the answer: Bev's, of course.

Likely, I was the only one who chuckled when we were told that they were going to play some new songs, as if they could be playing some old classics? I don't think so.

Initially, I was surprised to see the bass player center stage in front of the drummer, with a guitarist on either side, but it soon was evident that he was the most animated or at least the most dramatic, putting me in mind of Interpol's Carlos D and his sexy showboating. Good stuff.

Their set was too soon over and I had to go back to listening to the dimwit twins looking for love. "Look at all our shared interests!" one said to the other sticking the phone in her friend's face. "What, music?" she responded. "Yea, but he's ugly," she said, undoubtedly swiping left.

Somewhere, some lucky guy just missed a scrape with an inane and vapid woman.

Headlining and winning the award for best band name of the night was Asheville's Elvis Depressedly, with Mat on guitar, adorable manic pixie dream girl Delaney on keys and half of Cende: the bass player sans his black sweater (whom Mat called his best friend from college and who was playing completely differently) and the drummer (same t-shirt) backing them up.

Mat began by explaining why it had been so long since they'd played here. "I stayed away from Virginia for years because I got a crazy speeding ticket. I finally let it go." He hasn't, though, let go of the resentment of the person who gave him the ticket.

I, for one, was really glad about that since their melodic and melancholic pop sound - shimmering guitar over layers of keyboard, enhanced with bass and drums - brought back listening to indie music on warm summer days that now feel like ancient history (see: boots, also scarves tied around columns on porches, although I'm not sure what that's all about).

But just as satisfying as the achingly feel-good vibes of the sound? The smart lyrics of songs such as "Rock and Roll" or "Madison Acid."

Cause I'm not in the band,
It don't mean I'm square
And if I am,
Then I don't care

Squares or not, their last song was a low-key one, so they dismissed the rhythm section and finished with an appropriately sweet song to send us out into the night. It turned out to be a hella good night of music, like one of the Sprout shows in days of old.

Take it from a show loser, Gallery 5 was most definitely not dry tonight.

The Perks of Being a Walker

Muggy morning, quick walk, limited time. Lots of payoffs.

On a side street, a guy walking parallel to me smiles widely from across the street, then mimes writing on his palm. Either he wants his check or my number. I proffer a smile instead.

Next block, a guy says, "I want to walk with you but I haven't got a walk that good." Says who?

Crossing the triangle, a tall, handsome man says, "What does it take to tame a woman like you?" Before I can respond (the answer is words, both spoken and written), he tells me, "You have such confidence and swing to your walk." When I attribute both to my age, he says, "I'm just happy you stopped to talk to me. If you ever want a man to appreciate you, please look me up." A card is extended.

I go three blocks before a guy calls out, "They're going to give you a ticket for sexy in public." I say I'll take my chances.

Turning the corner, a man smiles and says, "Walky, walky, you certainly don't need to exercise, young lady."

Young?

I'm wearing my typical walking ensemble, a t-shirt (today it's "Virginia is for wine lovers") and shorts like I do every day. It's cloudy enough that I don't have my usual hat on, but nothing else is different about today except that I'm in more of a hurry so it's a shorter walk.

Almost home and a guy greets me with, "Good morning, beautiful."

My quick two-miler turned into an epic walk. Compliments can be hard to come by. A girl would have to be crazy not to appreciate that kind of random affirmation

Tame?

And the Award Goes to...

We have a winner in the Best Pickup Line ever sweepstakes.

Walking down Broad Street today, a man says hello and tells me how good I look. I thank him with a smile and keep walking.

From behind he calls, "Just got out of jail. I'm fresh meat! Don't you want some fresh meat?"

I don't think I do. The question is, would this line work on any woman in the world? Fresh is a subjective term, don't you think?

Walking the Beat

A man approaches me at a crosswalk.

Stranger: Can I give you a compliment?
Me: Sure.

Stranger: Those sure are some pretty legs you have.
Me: Thank you.

Stranger: I saw you walking before and was thinking you don't often see legs that nice.
Me: Not bad for an old lady.

Stranger: You don't look old, you look great. Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Yes.

Stranger: Do you want another?
Me: Nope, one man is plenty for me.

Walk resumes.

Hello, Chef

Let shorts season begin.

It was the third time this week I wore shorts on my walk but the first time I encountered someone bent on complimenting me.

Coming around the monolithic convention center, I started down 3rd Street, deciding mid-block to cross to the other side of the street.

Halfway across, I heard a guy calling to me from the side I'd just left. I continued to the other side and he hustled across the street to join me.

"Have you ever been told how beautiful your legs are?" he inquired. A time or two, yes. But it's probably been dozens of times that that particular line has been said to me.

He wanted to know why I'd crossed the street when I saw him approaching. Explaining that I hadn't even noticed him, I'd crossed because I lived in that direction and was heading home.

"So you didn't cross to avoid me admiring your gorgeous legs then?" he asked rhetorically. What woman of a certain age would mind being admired?

Extending his hand, he introduced himself as Preston and I asked if he lived in Jackson Ward.

No, he said, he lived in Shockoe Bottom and is a private chef to three people in the Ward (a menage a trois, perhaps?), to whom he'd just dropped off their lunches.

I gave him props for having been up, cooking and delivering already when all I'd done was eat breakfast and go for a walk so far.

All of a sudden the sun peeked out from behind the clouds and he exclaimed, "Look at the sunlight on those lovely legs!"

Well, he certainly was.

Explaining that I was going to go finish my walk, he stuck out his hand again. "I might need to start walking in Jackson Ward, too, with scenery is as fine as those legs are."

Exercise is good, Preston.

I didn't get four steps before seeing a guy who'd passed us a minute earlier, now paused to let his dog relieve himself.

Glancing up as I walked by him and the pup, he smiled. "He's right."

Praise be for shorts weather.

55 Years and Still Looking

You never know who notices you.

Today I was walking down Broad Street past the barbershop where a guy inside has waved hello at me for years.

Ditto today where he waved as I cruised by.

From behind, I suddenly hear a voice. "Good morning! Come here, please!"

I turn around to see an older man gesturing me into the barber shop.

Since there are no customers, I go in and there, sitting in a chair, is the dark-haired barber who waves hello every time I pass, even if he's cutting hair with scissors in hand.

The two men introduce themselves and tell me they look forward to me walking by everyday.

"How long you been coming by now?" the older one asks.

Almost seven years, I tell him.

"I've been cutting hair right here for 55 years," he says, to my astonishment. "After a while, I nickname the regulars who pass by. Wanna know yours?"

The dark-haired one is grinning. "Are you gonna tell her?" he asks incredulously.

"Sure," says the older one. "Legs! That's what I been calling you since you first started coming by here. You got the best legs I ever saw on a woman. To me, you're Legs."

Just so they know, I tell them my actual name is Karen.

"Karen," the dark haired one says. "I saw you at 27 a while back but I couldn't figure out how I knew you. We even talked across the bar, but I just couldn't place you. I woke up in the middle of the night and it hit me. Legs! I'd been talking to Legs at 27!"

He remembered the specific evening - Chef Carlos' birthday party- and that I'd been wearing a dress, something he'd obviously never seen me in on my walks.

"How could you not have recognized those legs?" the older one asked him in disbelief.

Out of context, I guessed. I'd been completely out of context.

Still, it's always flattering to hear that a man woke up in the middle of the night because his brain hadn't been able to stop thinking about me.

Even if it was only my legs.

Walking on Air

There's something in the air.

As my friend Dave put it around 3 a.m. this morning, "This air tonight is absolutely extraordinary."

It is.

I saw it first hand on my walk down Grace Street, where a man surprised me by saying, "You are incredibly beautiful to me."

Thanking him, he went on. "You have a beautiful walk. Don't ever change that walk!"

Maybe I walk differently in this air.

Coming back towards VCU, a guy came running out of his house at top speed, a silly grin on his face.

From the second story of the house, a female voice sing-songed down to him, "Bye!"

Twirling mid-stride, he jogged backward in place as he called up to the disembodied voice, "I love you!" before righting his direction and tearing around the corner.

So love is in the air, too.

Amen, Dave. Absolutely extraordinary.

Never Too Old to Look Apparently

An old guy leaning on a walker smiles widely at me in front of the 7-11 on Grace Street, white wisps of hair blowing in the morning's delicious breeze.

Before I can move on, he speaks.

"Good morning!" 
"Morning!"
"You look great in shorts."
"Thank you."
"The good lord gave you a beautiful body!"
"How old are you?"
"Eight-eight."
"And you're still looking at women's butts?"
"Until the good lord strikes me dead!"


Amen. Now be on your way.

All Up in My Grill

On the corner of Grace Street and Ryland, a man stops me by putting his hand up.

"You have to be the best looking woman getting in shape out here walking," he says. "And I see you around here all the time!"

"Cause I walk every day," I explain, smiling. "But thanks."

"And another thing, I like your grill," he tells me. "I like your smile. It lights me up inside every time I see it."

Last week a guy complimented me on my great gams and after I thanked him, I teased him about using such an old-fashioned word.

Being complimented on my grill must be my new-school cosmic payback.

No Show and Tell, No Gifts Please

A very large and smiling man is walking toward me on Grace Street. He stops as I approach.

Him: Hi, beautiful!
Me: Good morning.
Him: (in a sing-song voice) I have something to give you.
Me: (now fearing it will be a view of a body part) Oh, yea?
Him: (proudly) It's a dollar!
Me: (visibly relieved) No, no. But you have a nice day.
Him: I will because I saw your beautiful face.

Two blocks on, a guy stops his car in the middle of the Harrison and Grace intersection and calls out to me "Morning, gorgeous!" while pointing his index finger at me, gun-style. I smile in return, but he doesn't move the car until I'm halfway up the block. Horns are honking at him for doing this.

For the record, I am wearing yoga pants, a fleece and earmuffs. Earmuffs! I couldn't look any less beautiful or gorgeous.

Still, you have to appreciate the kind of guys who see what they want to see, whether it's there or not, and compliment strangers.

And I'll go right on thinking it's a good thing as long as all they do is talk to me.

From 556 Miles Away

What can you expect from someone you've only seen five times in your life? How about the best compliment of my year?

At the Belvidere back in October, I'd met a man and woman who were here on business from Boston. She soon left for the hotel, but he stayed and struck up a conversation about dining (he eats out as much as I do), traveling (he travels a great deal on business and almost as much for pleasure), and art (a former artist, he had little tolerance for no-talents).

At the end of that rainy night, I told him he was a great conversationalist and he suggested we hang out the next night so I could show him the beer places in RVA that had been recommended to him. The beer part aside, it sounded like fun.

When he returned to Richmond a few weeks later on business, he let me know in advance so we could hang out again. This time, there were no beer joints, but just as much fun; we did InLight, we ate, drank and were merry and we over-shared our life stories, just for grins.

Then he went back to Boston and except for a few e-mails asking for my thoughts on an 18th-century poem and a Beat poem, we've had little communication.

So when I opened a recent e-mail from him, I couldn't have been more surprised at its contents:

I wish you much happiness and love during the new year...
You were the most interesting person I met in 2010.

High praise indeed from a guy who meets people practically everywhere and can talk to anyone.

Maybe there's hope for me yet.

A Leo Line

My walk didn't even get started until after noon today and then I was surprised to find Grace Street crowded with families and graduates in gowns. And...

Him: I'm a Leo and I'm from Jersey, so I gotta say what's on my mind.
Me: Shoot.
Him: You're gorgeous, in really great shape.
Me: You mean for a white girl?
Him: I mean for any color girl.
Me: Thanks. (starting to walk away and thinking how well that went)
Him: One more thing. Think about me when you're in bed tonight.

Sir, you're not setting a very good example for the graduates, now are you?

Why I Love Grace Street, Chapter 73

After having to walk Broad Street the past few months for the shade, today's overcast skies afforded me the opportunity to return to my beloved Grace Street and its very vocal populace.

I'd barely crossed Broad onto Pine when a silver Lexus slowed and the driver called out, "Whatever it is you're doing, it's definitely working, young lady. Keep doing it!" I felt like I was being welcomed back.

Further up Grace, two guys approached me smiling and one said he sees me everywhere and asked how far I walk. "Four miles," I said. "It sure does make you look good," he offered. His friend just nodded.

Heading back, a student pointed at my Yo la Tengo t-shirt and said, "They're my favorite band. You like them?" and I responded enthusiastically, telling him about seeing them live. He said I was the first person he'd met since coming to VCU who even knew who they were. Undoubtedly that's because YLT got together in 1984 and this guy was maybe 18. Tops.

Piles of discarded furniture? Yep. Empty 40-ounce malt liquor bottles? Always. Talkative and complimentary humankind?

Guaranteed on Grace Street.

Walking the Brick Carpet

I got a late start on my morning walk today, which meant finding shade on Grace Street was going to be challenging.

I resorted to walking the less-scenic Broad Street because the taller buildings were still providing shade late in the morning.

Walking west on Broad from Belvidere, the wide sidewalks are bisected by a ribbon of brick, but only on the blocks that have VCU property on them.

For no particular reason, when I'm on those blocks, I have a tendency to walk the brick walkways rather than the more even and smooth concrete.

I never gave it a second thought until a tall, handsome passer-by noticed.

Him: Look at you, baby, taking up that whole brick sidewalk.

Me: (smiling guiltily because I am smack in the middle of it)

Him: And you know what, you deserve every bit of it! (smiling back)

Guilt assuaged.

Early Morning Thoughts

When a recently rediscovered friend announces to the world that my devastating combination of wit and charm will render him helpless, I can't help but wonder when he was rendered.

His response?

"About 17 years ago."

That's the kind of answer that puts a smile on my face and does an ego good.

Why is it some guys don't like to compliment?

Beats me, but I'll ponder on that when I get up later.

For now, back to bed and sweet dreaming.

Did I mention his ace in the hole?

He also knows how to cast a musical spell.

G'night.

Thankful for Randomness

I didn't do a "what I'm thankful for" post on Thanksgiving Day like so many bloggers did.

It's not that I'm not thankful for my family, friends and health, because I am.

But some of the things for which I have been extremely grateful in the past I no longer have, and that made for some poignant omissions as I took stock.

It wasn't even a pity party, just more of an acknowledgement of less to be thankful for than in the past, so why write it up?

But of course, there are dozens of small things that happen all the time which I could be focusing on.

People say nice things to me on a startlingly frequent basis; this has always been the case for me and I have no idea why (friends have suggested it's my aura, but who really knows?).

This morning, for instance, as I passed a guy on my walk:

Him: I see you out here every single day!
Me: Because I walk every day.
Him: That's spunk! You've got some sass and that comes through when I see you.
Me: Use or it lose it, you know.
Him: And on top of that, you are gorgeous.
Me: Thank you.

As I walked away, I thought about how fortunate I am that I get random compliments like that, especially now that I have no significant other to supply them.

And, let me be clear, I am nothing like gorgeous, what spunk I once possessed has been knocked out of me by 2009 and the sass is just part of my personality.

But even so, it was a very unexpected and sweet thing for a stranger to tell me.

I don't know how often such chance things happen to other people, but for me, it's a cosmic bonus when so much else in my life is lackluster these days.

And for that I am thankful, which, I suppose, makes this yet another banal blogger "what I'm thankful for" post.

Sorry to be so trite.

Guys Say the Darnedest Things, Part 2: Strangers

When I last posted on this subject, it was about guys I knew and their unbelievable utterances, here.

But here's the thing: sometimes it's strangers who provide the amusement.

To start my walk every day, I have a to cross Belvidere, no small feat since it's six lanes plus two service roads.

As I was starting to cross, I heard some guy in his car hooting and hollering like crazy.

I had no reason to think it was addressed at me, so I just kept going.

Then he yelled, "Great ass!" just as I reached the center median.

No one else was around, so I glanced back, wondering if it was perhaps directed at me.

"Not YOU!" he yelled, "YOU ain't got NO ass!"

At that second, I spied a woman on the far side of Belivdere with a most ample backside getting into her car.

Clearly, she was his intended.

Before I even had time to be insulted, though, another guy a few cars back leaned out his window and said, "Don't listen to him. You have a very fine ass, miss," and then drove on.

In the space of ten seconds, I had been put down and redeemed.

It's true, men really do say the most extraordinary things.

What is it About Shorts?

I've come to a conclusion: shorts embolden people, especially those of the male persuasion.

I haven't done a scientific study or anything like that, but I think I have enough anecdotal evidence to support my hypothesis.

When the weather turned abruptly cold last week, out of necessity I switched to yoga pants for my daily walk.

But the last couple of days, the pants seemed a bit much, so I decide to go with shorts today instead.

I was a tad cool at first, but once I got going, I knew they were the right choice.

I decided to walk east rather than west, so I brought along my DPU bill to pay on the way.

As I walked by Abner Clay Park, a musician friend whom I see all the time came riding by on his bike, so I said good morning to him.

He didn't even look up immediately; instead his eyes went from my feet, right up the thighs to my hips and then he looked at my face and greeted me by name.

It was classic male stuff.

As I approached City Hall, a man came toward me smiling, so I said good morning.

"You have beautiful legs. Just beautiful! Good morning," he said.

I thanked him, wondering if he makes a habit of complimenting strangers.

Inside the payment office, the clerk called out,"Next," and I approached his station.

Noticing my attire, he asked if I was out for a run or walk and I said I was on my daily walk.

"Well you don't get legs like that without doing something right every day."

He gave me a big smile and handed me my receipt.

So here's my conclusion: shorts rule.

It hasn't been all that long since the weather made shorts-wearing difficult, but if today's responses to a person like me in shorts are any indication, they're already sorely missed.

No further scientific investigation necessary.

Comfort. Compliment. Cop.

The great thing about having friends in the restaurant business is that they're free during the day, much as I am. One such friend, also a Jackson Ward resident, had suggested having lunch together today and left the destination up to me, so I chose Comfort. I don't frequent Comfort much, mainly because the menu never changes and I like a little more variety than that. But this was lunch, I hadn't tried it and I was curious.

So friend met me here and we enjoyed a short but sunny five block walk; I was really enjoying the warmth of the day, but friend was suffering a bit due to the brightness...or perhaps the lateness of the prior evening. The restaurant wasn't too crowded, maybe 5 or 6 tables occupied, and after first being seated in the direct sun, were moved to a less painful table near the front.

I ordered the roasted turkey with Muenster cheese, apple slices and roasted apple mustard on a kaiser roll, with mashed potatoes for a side. If I'm getting real turkey, I want mashed potatoes nearby. Friend got the spicy ham sandwich with olive relish and macaroni and cheese for a side. Thus began the wait for our food. Tables arrived after us and got their meals and still we waited. I finally asked the waitress where our food was, much to the dismay of restaurant friend who said she'd only lie to me about its whereabouts.

After a while (okay, it had been close to 40 minutes since we'd ordered) our sandwiches arrived and friend dove right into his mac and cheese, even complimenting how good it was. My sandwich was thick with turkey and perfectly delicious (as were the mashed potatoes I demolished). Friend thought the olive relish was competing with the spicy ham on his, but since it was exactly as stated on the menu, he couldn't complain too much.

Leaving the restaurant, he headed east (to nap) and I went west. I got two blocks down when a man came up beside me and smiled.

Him: Can I say thank you? It's so nice to see a woman in a dress and stockings for a change. Doesn't happen much anymore.

Me: (not pointing out that it's actually a jean skirt and leggings) I know what you mean and I've heard it before. I'm just a dress person.

Him: Good for you for looking so nice. Have a great day.

Even the cop sitting in his van at the curb gave me a big smile when he heard that.

Guys Say the Darnedest Things

So this guy makes me dinner and we're sitting outside afterwards enjoying a bottle of wine.

He leans in close like he's going to kiss me and, instead, says, "You know you're not pretty; your nose is too big. But you're nice and you're sexy as hell."

Let's just say we didn't kiss.

Or have another date, but there were other reasons for that.

That happened to me back in 2002, but it's still one of my favorite stories to share because it's hysterical.

I have no idea why he chose that moment, only inches from my face, to share his opinion, but he was certainly entitled to it.

So I was sharing that anecdote with a friend (a guy, of course) just a few weeks ago and he was appalled at the ignorance/arrogance of what the first guy had said.

He laughed about the stupidity of a guy being so blunt at such a moment.

The next thing out of his mouth was, "Your nose isn't too big. It's too pointy."

Well, thank you for clearing that up.

Not long ago, I was out with a guy friend I think can be pretty amusing when he's not wallowing in distaste for the human race.

He's made flattering remarks on occasion, although I'm not sure I'd call this one a compliment.

"Is it (pointing to my body) as well-preserved naked as it is in clothes?"

I'll give him points for a left-handed compliment, but it's still a pretty unusual way to score points...or is it?

I'd be honestly bothered if someone said I was stupid or bad company or dull. Opinions about my outside are just that: opinions and everyone is entitled to one.

I once dated a guy who said he didn't compliment me because it would make my head swell.

Fortunately for me, there are plenty of guys out there to make sure that doesn't happen.

And it can be pretty amusing even while it's keeping me in check.