Wonderwall

It's not usually my style to tell other people's stories on this blog (that should be reserved for their blogs) but I heard Oasis on the radio this morning which always reminds me of one of the dads in the neighborhood next to ours. I barely know this man, aside from buying our kitchen floor from him this past year, but he's probably one of the funniest people I've ever met.

He's also a gigantic fan of Oasis and claims that the band changed his life. Specifically, "Oasis rocked my world."

One weekend a friend of his, a concert promoter in Philadelphia, invited him down to an Oasis concert. Backstage passes. The whole nine yards. Turns out that afterward, Oasis was playing a private show at an upscale nightclub in Atlantic City. These guys ended up getting invited by the band, taking a limo to Atlantic City in the wee hours of the morning and attending this private party filled with rich and famous people.

To make his story even more over-the-top, the party was sponsored by some high-end, Grey Goose-like liquor brand and atop the bar were a string of almost-naked, dancing models who were wearing, based on his description, a light steel-rim contraption that served as a bra (of sorts) complete with motorized propellers over the boobs.

Of course, this 40-something man -- who left his wife and kids at home in suburbia -- was completely agog. Just as he was ordering his martini, the model directly above him, stepped down from her perch to take a break and stood right next to him for a moment. He looked her in the eye and said, "You are so hot."

She replied, "No shit."

And then she walked away.

I simply love the obviousness of her response. No shit.