So there's this guy at work, we call him Kilt Boy!
If you haven't figured it out, his nickname is because he wears kilts to work, complete with sporrans to boot. Some furry, some leather. Now the crazy thing is, he's not Scottish nor Irish. (that I can tell) He aint got an arcent or says aye or talks aboot things. The best thing I can tell he's a LARPer or some Ren Fair fanatic.
I've met the type before. This is the guy that sits in his mother's basement and goes on six hour raids via the Internet and drinks Red Bull followed by Mountain Dew Game Fuel. He reads every fantasy novel the moment they hit the bookstore shelves. He's not reading them for fun but checking them for historical accuracy. He criticizes the author's use of a halberd vs a claymore. Chastises the choice of goblin over a kobold. He only drinks from pewter goblets and munches on greasy turkey legs.
Not sure how he gets away with wearing kilts to the office. Perhaps he threatened religious or cultural discrimination. Or maybe he gets off on wearing skirts? What scares me is: if he wears them true Scottish style. Y'know, commando joe-- only a thin piece of polyester between us and his fun gun. He wears those little moccassin boots and Jesus sandals (in the summer). His hair is long and pulled into a pony tail. Not sure who's weirder him or 80s Dude (this guy that still wears cotton pants and topsiders).
The guy intrigues me only because he has the balls to be different. I've tried to bribe some young ladies in the office to talk to him and get his story. They've refused. Maybe I need to offer more than $20 bucks. One day I'll be stuck in the elevator with him and I'll be forced to get the tale. Until then, we'll keep callin him Kilt Boy!
