My friend and I were out on the town, holed up at a place in Silverlake called the Red Lion Tavern. The joint was packed. We were on the patio, standing around a table with a couple good-looking dames. A guy gets up from the table next door, drink in hand, and staggers over to introduce himself. He looks like he's on the wrong side of 25, swarthy complexion, and is otherwise physically unremarkable.
guy: hey what's up? how are you guys going tonight?
me: good.
guy: i'm sorry i didn't even introduce myself. what's your name?
me: chloe.
guy: you know what? you look just like my friend sonia.
me: really?
guy: yeah like exactly.
me: cool.
guy: hey do you guys watch 'keeping up with the kardashians'?
me: not really.
guy: do you know who scott disick is?
me: sure, i've heard of him. he's the husband right?
guy: let me tell you something. scott disick is the man.
me: really? i've heard he's kind of a douche.
guy: no, sonia. let me tell you something. scott is the man. i'm scott's stand-in.
me: wow.
guy: sonia, scott is a pimp. you know how i know he's a pimp?
me: no.
guy: he's a pimp. you know how i know he's a pimp?
*dramatic pause*
guy: he wears a polka dot suit and he still picks up chicks.
me: if he picks up chicks it's probably because he's in reality tv.
guy: no, sonia. he wears a polka dot suit and he picks up chicks. scott is the man.
me: ok.
Every generation has its heroes.
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