She crossed her ankles perfectly and bent over at the waist, leaning on the door of the cab, peering in to say goodbye to her friend leaving her ass in the air pointing directly at the front windows of the bar while the dudes at my table made mocking (yet obviously pleased) gestures at the vision.
We were at Motorcity. My turf. I went into the bathroom to take a piss and as soon as I pulled my pants down the knocking started. BANG BANG BANG! "Hold on! I just got in here." A pause, 30 seconds, then BANG BANG BANG! "Calm down!" The doorknob started rattling, the door started shaking then again, BANG BANG BANG! The more the impatient asshole knocked the longer I wanted to stay in there. I rinsed off my hands, applied some lipgloss, took a deep breath then flung open the door as hard and fast as I could successfully pegging the offender with the door, knocking her into the corner.
Before I knew it I had all six foot plus stilettos of her in my face. She called me a crazy bitch, I called her a stupid cunt and told her to get into the goddamn bathroom since it was obviously such an emergency. She screamed whatthefuck and I yelled shutthefuckup and she went into the bathroom, slamming the door.
I looked around and saw that my encounter had attracted a significant audience of friends who had been watching the episode unfold while standing next to the pinball machine. They knew who was inside the bathroom when the banging began and had been waiting for the ultimate alpha lady showdown. Unfortunately it didn't come to blows. I'm not a fighter, but goddamn it would have been funny to fight a supermodel at Motorcity.
That's right, supermodel. Even though it's a dead term, she's pretty close to one, has the look of the 90s amazons down to the perfect cut off Levi's and white button-down mens shirt, very Cindy Crawford in her George Michael era of hotness.
I am a big fan of having fake rivalries with people who don't know who I am. I had a year long war with Parker Posey once. It started on the corner of 4th Ave and 12th Street. I had just finished crossing the street and passed her on the street corner when she paused, looked me up and down, and then just laughed and rolled her eyes. I wasn't dressed like an asshole, I was wearing jeans and a tshirt. No visible rips or stains, nothing to prove, but the mocking tone of her laugh was devastating and totally uncalled for. She had that perfect popular girl laugh, totally Heathers, totally bitch.
A few weeks later I was at work when I saw her again. I used to scoop icecream at Magnolia Bakery. We had a cart set up on the corner in front of the bakery and I spotted Parker Posey on rollerblades. She was obviously a beginner which cracked me up because, come on, it was 2001, who learns how to rollerblade in 2001? So passe. She ate shit hard right in front of the Marc Jacobs store, fell right on her ass. I pointed and laughed and she glared at me. It was my revenge. Even though I am certain she was completely unaware of our rivalry.
And I am sure this girl is too. But what was incredible was the aftermath that night. She directed all her energy to a male friend of mine, trying to get his attention, apparently attempting to use her wiles to steal my dude, who wasn't even my dude. She also complained to the doorguy who is a longstanding friend of mine and the DJ who is also a buddy of mine. Like I said, my turf. No one is kicking a reasonable sober girl out of a bar unless she throws a punch which, while it would have been hilarious, isn't my style. Fuck...I should have, it would've been my one chance to make Page Six.
I don't get it when girls who have everything want more all the time. Attention vampires. If you are the prettiest girl in the room you don't need to hang a sign around your neck that screams "LOOK AT ME!" because trust me, in your short shorts and pumps everyone already is.
Anyway, saw her out the other night, she obviously had no recollection so I can peacefully go on having a secret rivalry with her that she is oblivious to. Sweet.