Have you ever been a hotshot? When devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes.
This young upstart in a suit decided to sit next to me with his man purse and his laptop case that contained everything he needed to move the world. The world revolves around him. It must feel good.
I felt an urge to yawn.
Nobody likes him. He doesn’t know. Ignorance is bliss. Take it from someone who knows.
It is very rare to see someone wearing a suit in New Orleans. A suit from Men’s Wearhouse does not make a young man a man’s man.
A rhinestone dandy has a tailor to fit things purchased off the rack. The hotshot could use some tailoring in his jacket’s shoulder padding. His shoulders look like Alexis Colby’s.
I know people younger than I am have no idea what I am talking about. I am talking about Dynasty, television series from the 1980s, before you were born.
The hotshot eats like an animal. His table manners are atrocious. His cheeks are like a squirrel’s after he takes a bite of his po’ boy. At least he is confident. He is wearing a suit.
Take it from someone who wears a suit and tie on a semi-regular basis or, if not, at least a suit jacket every day.
He has decided to use a fork to eat his coleslaw. He may as well be using his hands. Hunger makes the best sauce. He is as clean-shaven as Tarzan.
No matter how I describe it, it worse than it is.
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I know the type, and always avoided dating them when I was a younger lass. Not that I date them now...you know what I mean. And the Dynasty reference was golden.