You Are NOT Jake Ryan

Remember the cult classic movie Sixteen Candles? Sam ate carrots to get her boobs to grow, complained about having to ride the bus to school, and wished the most popular senior guy would dump his Prom Queen girlfriend for her (yeah, right). Jake Ryan was dangerously dreamy, did the hottest girl in school and drove that stellar red Porsche.

Doesn’t it remind you of 6^th grade sleepovers? Watching bad movies, playing Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board and falling asleep with your hand in the Doritos bowl? (Mmmm Doritos…) Focus, dammit!

Yeah, it was two decades ago when I last pined away for that imaginary hunk, so WHY is there a guy in my parking garage who still drives Jake Ryan’s red Porsche?

I’ve parked near it for over a week just hoping to catch a glimpse of this pathetic creature, and I finally saw him this morning. He was quite as lame as I pictured him: Middle-aged, FOakley’s tethered on a sunglass rope and a receding hairline which he tries to compensate for by allowing the back to grow just a touch too long (you’re picturing an elderly Steve Sanders, right? Good.)

A quick guess at his life story tells me this: his name is Chad and he’s recently divorced from his high school sweetheart who was cheating on him with her night school ethics professor. Since Chad has plunged back into the dating pool he has reverted back to what he last knew chicks to dig, which consists of Jake Ryan’s Porsche and the aforementioned ensemble, and likely includes acid-washed jeans on weekends.

For pity’s sake, Chad, I know you’re depressed but take a look around! Passers-by don’t ogle you because you look rad; it’s because you look like a moron!

I feel dreadful for Chad, really I do, but that surely won’t stop me from scribbling, “What’s happenin’ hot stuff?” into the dirt on his Porsche window.