The insoluble problem of Gold Lamé Pants


I thought I was a pretty good sudoku player, but I’ve been stuck on this one impossible puzzle forever. As I approached Yonge Station, I put down my puzzle book and headed for the door to exit the train and transfer to an eastbound train.

As I got there, a couple of women rose from their seats as well, one of them a short, squat, familiar-looking figure. I looked at her more closely. Wasn’t it …?

Yes. It was. It was Gold Lamé Pants, the horrible woman from Toula’s Christmas party.

At least, I thought it was. She was wearing an overcoat — not her gold lamé pants. I glanced away, not wanting to be caught looking closely. I listened instead, waiting to recognize her voice. However, she didn’t say anything, letting the other woman do all the talking. Well, that didn’t seem like Gold Lamé Pants.

The train stopped. The door opened. I ran for the stairs — partly out of habit, partly to escape Gold Lamé Pants, just in case it was her. I hurtled down the steps, leaned against a column, and waited. I pulled out my sudoku book and looked at the puzzle, with its many black eraser smudges. I flipped the page and started another, filling in boxes with amazing speed.

A small troll-like figure leaped in front of me. “I thought it was you!” exclaimed  Gold Lamé Pants. “Toula’s housemate …” she snapped her fingers. “… Whatever!” she finished. “Houseboy!” she laughed. “I thought it was you! I was with my friend from work!”

I slowly closed my book, put it away, and said hello. as an eastbound train arrived. I got on. So did she. Just my luck. Now I had another insoluble problem.

She sat in an empty seat, while I remained standing a polite distance away. I was distant enough, in fact, that I could barely hear what she was saying as she prattled on, and I just gave a thin smile and nodded politely until I reached my station, at which point I bid her farewell and then almost bowled over some guy with a huge backpack in my rush to get off the train.

I didn’t hear much, except for two things: The first is that she discussed Mickey Rourke and how his work in The Wrestler ought to finally win the Oscar for which his work in Angel Heart and Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man was unjustly overlooked. From there, it went into a comparative analysis of Rourke’s oeuvre versus Patrick Swayze’s.

The second is that I’m invited to her birthday party.

3 Responses to “The insoluble problem of Gold Lamé Pants”

  1. Somehow, it doesn’t at all surprise me that she found Rourke’s pre-Wrestler performances to be Oscar worthy. Gold lamé pants don’t exactly scream ‘good taste’.

    And, since you are invited to her birthday party, does that mean we are going to get another liveblog? Please, please, please say yes…

  2. 2 Grom

    Just want to let you know that the new tagcloud over at JayPinkerton might attract some weird visitors to this site: Complex Off-Site Pedophilia Peter Lynn

  3. 3 Peter Lynn

    @ DeScepter: Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man is actually my stepdad’s favorite movie, but I’m sure even he wouldn’t claim it was Oscar-worthy. As for another liveblog, I don’t think it’s in the cards. For one thing, I don’t know how I’d blog from someone else’s house. And for another, my girlfriend has forbidden me to go, since Gold Lamé Pants was threatening to grab my bottom. I don’t think she quite understands the extent to which Gold Lamé Pants represents no threat whatsoever. I find her about as appealing as Toula, which is “completely un-“.

    @ Grom. Jay’s the one who memorably once called me a “veritable cloud of assholes”. But now, albeit probably unintentionally, he’s somehow come up with an even worse cloud-based insult.

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