So, I was walking my dog, Kayla, before work today as I do everyday. (Except Sundays. I usually make a complete ass of myself the night before in downtown Fort Lauderdale and need the Sabbath for self-reflection and self-loathing. Therefore, the dog is on her own.) Today was a little different than most though as I learned a little something on our morning constitutional.
First of all, I saw Santa driving this morning. I often like to amuse myself by staring all creepy like at people driving towards me. I like to think of them a mile down the road still thinking of me as they inspect their face in the rearview mirror and think, “what was she looking at?”. Today as I was doing my best to bring out the insecurities of strangers I saw a familiar face stare back at me, Kris Kringle. Did you know he drives a Ford Focus? Me niether. There is your fun fact for the day.
Moving on….It seems that no matter how much (or little) effort I put into my look for the day, my natural sexy must be radiating through because I never make it home without having at least ten gentleman honk their horns at me. For the most part I try to look oblivious. It drives me crazy though. What do these guys expect? Do they think I’m going to see them, time is going to stand still as our eyes meet, and I’m going to give them the clear “let’s go” signal? No. Not gonna happen. Anymore anyway. Not only do I not love you, Mr. Honker, but I actually sort of despise you. You are an idiot. Now if you do it for the same reason my friend Lauren honks at teenage girls, to make them completely uncomfortable, then it’s a different story, I may love you…
So today I hear yet another “beep beep” but this time it is rather distant. It is coming from a car that can’t even see me. Ummm…what? Then it happens, I see her…my competition. That’s being kind though. Competition, please. Let’s just say that I realized at that moment, you guys will honk at just about anything. My pride has taken beating today. If you see me wearing a shirt that says, “don’t bother, you don’t mean it”, you know what I’m talking about. Screw you honker and your empty promises.
Moving on….It seems that no matter how much (or little) effort I put into my look for the day, my natural sexy must be radiating through because I never make it home without having at least ten gentleman honk their horns at me. For the most part I try to look oblivious. It drives me crazy though. What do these guys expect? Do they think I’m going to see them, time is going to stand still as our eyes meet, and I’m going to give them the clear “let’s go” signal? No. Not gonna happen. Anymore anyway. Not only do I not love you, Mr. Honker, but I actually sort of despise you. You are an idiot. Now if you do it for the same reason my friend Lauren honks at teenage girls, to make them completely uncomfortable, then it’s a different story, I may love you…
So today I hear yet another “beep beep” but this time it is rather distant. It is coming from a car that can’t even see me. Ummm…what? Then it happens, I see her…my competition. That’s being kind though. Competition, please. Let’s just say that I realized at that moment, you guys will honk at just about anything. My pride has taken beating today. If you see me wearing a shirt that says, “don’t bother, you don’t mean it”, you know what I’m talking about. Screw you honker and your empty promises.