So it's about 3:00 in the afternoon. I drank like a frat boy last night, and now I'm pretty tired and cranky and hungover. So I haven't gotten much done, unless watching a Super Sweet Sixteen Marathon counts, and actually, in my book it does. It fuels my rage. And I need my rage.
ANYWAY, I decided that I really needed to get out of the house. If not for me, then for my poor dog, who has been looking at me lately with what can only be described as disdain.
So I throw on gym shoes over my blue argyle socks that I slept in the night before, throw my hair in a ponytail and add a purple wrap-around sweater on top of my aqua t-shirt. I brush my teeth and walk out the door with the doggie.
FYI, I live on the gayest street in one of the gayest neighborhoods in the midwest. Every single car has a either a rainbow sticker or a blue HRC logo on their bumper. (Except me. I have an American Poolplayers Association sticker, which is clearly devoid of any statement on my sexual orientation.) Anyway, it's common to get flirted with while walking on my big gay street. Especially when you you have a dog as cute as mine.
I see a girl walking towards me. She's pretty, but oddly looks a little bit like Monica Lewinsky, which is funny because I had just had a conversation about Monica Lewinsky and how the press referred to her as a "Portly Pepper Pot" I LOVE that expression. She's also wearing fishnet stockings, and I don't understand that. So as the Portly Pepper Pot ("PPP")comes within speaking distance she strikes up a conversation with me asking me about my dog, what her name is etc... I'm feeling flattered. I look like crap, probably smell like a bar, and may or may not have mascara on my cheeks. But I'm STILL cute enough to be flirted with. This boosts my confidence level. she asks me if I like living on the gayest street ever, and I tell her I do and I love the neighborhood blah blah blah. She's eating it up. PPP wants me so badly. She can't even look me in the eye. She's actually staring at my chest! I'm feeling pretty sexy. PPP probably thinks I'm like some sexy "bad girl" or something. Doesn't matter that I haven't showered. It probably helps with the whole naughty image I apparently have mastered today. I decide it's time to end this fun little rapport with a flirty "maybe I'll see you around". There may have been a wink on my part. I don't really remember.
I get back in my apartment and decide to look in the mirror to get a glimpse of the magnetic hottie I had become.
Yeah PPP wasn't staring at my boobs. No. When I spit out my toothpaste earlier, I guess I missed the sink and there was a big glob of toothpaste spit on my purple wrap-around sweater. Yay me!!