Wordsmoker

“The Officer’s Monologue” is one male police officer’s continuous narrative about fashion, interior design, decor, dining, and all things esthetic. All remarks are approximate quotes of actual statements made to the author—usually over sandwiches and cookies. Any resemblance between the principal character to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A buddy of mine from the military came in from out of town, so he called me to see if I wanted to hook up. So I’m like, “what the fuck?” and tell him to meet me at YOLO because I’ve been wanting to check it out. Do you know that place YOLO? It means “You Only Live Once.” Anyway, I think it’s a cool name.
So, I drive down to Las Olas in the Audi, and I’m feeling pretty good because I detailed her myself earlier that day, but then I pull up to the restaurant and there’s an R8 in the valet lot. I’m like “fuck.” If it was an A7 or even an A8, I’d be cool—I might even buy the guy a drink from one Audi owner to another—but an R-fucking-8? That’s not to mention the Maybach 62 S or the Bentley SS. [Note: The speaker is assuming a knowledge of vehicle makes that the author does not possess.]

So basically, I’m feeling lower than whale shit right about now, but I decide to shake it off and park in a lot down the street where no one would see my car. Besides, this gives me a chance to scope out the exterior of the restaurant before just walking into it. Have you ever been there? No? Okey, it’s basically laid out with a bar and a bunch of tables, and there’s a room with another bar in it off to the side.

I walk in and immediately start making a note of the exits and clearing my corners of any threats. You can never be too tactical. Then, once I make it towards the interior and start feeling comfortable, I start noticing the patrons—AND THERE ARE A LOT OF HOT CHICKS IN THIS PLACE. Most of them are a little older, well dressed, and classy, which is just my speed. I’m wearing my Cole Haan shoes, some nice jeans, and a Robert Graham dress shirt with the cuffs popped to show off the interior pattern.

So, I’m trying to get over to the bar to get some water. I wanted to rehydrate after the walk from my car and I accidentally bump into this really hot-looking, attractive woman who was probably in her thirties. She just looked like she had a lot of class: black cocktail dress, nice heels, accessories. She had really blonde hair, tan, looked like she worked out, and she had enormous fake fun bags. I think they were fake, anyway, because they looked really firm.

So, I said I was sorry for bumping into her and she smiled at me. I would have bought her a drink or tried to talk to her some more, but my buddy walked in right then. Bad timing. Anyway, I want to borrow a better car and take a smoking hot babe there for dinner sometime.