Picture a crowded bookstore on a rainy Seattle Sunday. I was in the cafe reading when I happened to notice a very cute boy sitting at the table next to me. Like most cafes in Seattle, this one had art hanging on the walls. Directly above me was a pair of blue jeans splattered with paint and, next to them, a label that read: the artist’s jeans. Pretentious, right?
Anyway, thinking I’m being clever, I lean over the very cute boy and say, “Do you think the artist actually wore those while he painted? Or, do you think he just splattered a pair of jeans with paint, framed them, and called it a day?”
Well, the boy (who was Ron, in case you haven’t figured it out) looked up from his sketchbook, examined the jeans, and said, “That’s how my jeans look when I paint.”
How he asked: Four years later the boy is still cute and I still live with my foot perpetually in my mouth.