More on the first day of my Central American cruise

Orientation on Tuesday was exactly what you would expect if you've read this blog for any length of time. There were, as usual, a number of people I recognized but would not claim even as acquaintances -- out of the 10 or so I recognize, I would classify one as competent -- and he's a fucking Patriots fan, so even he is suspect. but I like him and know that he actually knows his ass from a hole in the ground.

There are a number of survivors of the L Street Massacre on this project. Among them are Santa Claus, the guy who wore his pants around his knees and his shirt around his chest, and, naturally, the Hippy Dippy Clickin' Chick. It is not encouraging.

The Hippy Dippy Clickin' Chick managed to live up to her reputation during orientation yesterday, asking three stupid questions that had already been covered before she asked them and then getting combative with an agency representative over something that was beyond the agency's control. I put the over-under on her getting fired at Monday.

Milhouse, bless his heart, tried to ask an "intelligent" question yesterday, beginning it with "What I have gathered so far . . . " The associate doing the training session informed Milhouse that what he had gathered so far was just fucking wrong. I don't think it will deter him from further "intelligent" questions, but we'll see.

Yes, I kept my mouth shut.

Only a temp could dress well and still look like a homeless person

Temps aren't famous for being sharp dressers, but it happens. Normally, when it comes to temps, you can play a game on the Metro: when you see a rumpled, dissheveled person with unruly hair, you can play the guessing game, "Homeless, Temp or Federal Employee?" Hard to tell the difference.

Anyway, we have a dude on the project I call Santa Claus, mostly because he is rotund and has long, snow-white hair and a bushy white beard. Dude probably makes serious coin at Christmas working at some mall. But it would have to be a pretty downscale mall, because he is unable to shake that Temp vibe. No matter what he wears, he looks like a homeless dude.

Today, Santa Claus was wearing what is known (in the South, anyway, and more particularly in South Carolina) as a Charleston Tuxedo. The Charleston Tuxedo consists of khaki pants and a blue sports jacket with a button-down Oxford shirt. It is considered, in Charleston, at least, to be appropriate attire for everything from weddings to funerals. In general, it works.

Well, Santa Claus put on the Charleston Tuxedo today and it didn't work. I couldn't tell you what exactly didn't work, but the dude still looked like he either slept in or ate out of  a dumpster -- he just looked homeless.

At least he's trying, though, which is more than can be said of the guy I like to call Hunter S. Thompson, who always looks like he is coming off a bender, starting a bender or maybe is in the middle of a bender. Anyway, he is tall, gangly, gray curly hair and likes to wear shorts, the dress code notwithstanding. Unlike Santa Claus, Hunter is not even trying to dress well. You look at him and think "Venice Beach homeless dude." You can easily see him sleeping in a lifeguard stand by night and by day charging people to look after their car when they park in "his" parking space. Not happening in DC, I guess, but that's the look he's cultivating. Or maybe he just moved here from Venice Beach.

The more I think about it, the more I think these two guys could pair up to be the next Moby and the Hobo. The great irony here is that Moby and the Hobo first appeared on this blog during a project involving the same client and law firms as this project, but I never actually named them that until later. I do think that Moby and the Hoboes is a great name for a band, though.

Any way, in honor of the sharp-dressed men on this project, I give you this: