Diva
04-08-02, 08:35PM
Loser? Nah, I Just Like To Check Out The Asses
Somewhere between mindless asshole and male is the perfect description of the guy I met at the store. Or, as I fondly refer to it... "Stalkers Are Us". I understand it can be a lonely world out there. I know that people hide behind emails and computers far too much, and socialize far and far less. But I keep looking into the mirror and have to find the Official USO Gal tattooed on my forehead. Nor do I see a "Bored? Talk to me about shit no one wants to hear" bumper sticker on my ass. And yet there I was, innocently perusing the magazines for any George Clooney Pict... ER... articles, when HE started mimicking Chatty Cathy. "So, it was horrible, last week, huh? I think we all know what message they were trying to put across, Yesseree Bob, you don't have to hit me over the head with a sledge hammer to figure that one out..." Then he stood facing my profile. Totally invading my personal space circle. Waiting. Oh yes, just waiting for me to ask him what. I would not be sucking into that fucking manic conversation. I wasn't biting. I flipped the page. Some annoying [as if there were any other kind] picture of Christina Aguilera stared back at me. Fuck, that chick is so desperate to sell a makeup line that she just shoveled them all on so everyone could see their product at work. At at once. I can see why she's the darling of so many teenage girls' parents [major sarcasm]. Shit, still standing there. But he was doing something. Kind of like when a reflection catches the side glance. I looked out of instinct. He was doing what can only be described as the most exaggerated Joe Pesci expression while having a mild seizure. I turned slowly, in some mild horror that he took as "Go ahead, baby, fill me up with your wit... Then let's fuck" "Youknowwhatimsayin'? Make love, not war." My jaw dropped and rolled next to some discarded Grapefruit. Then I did something totally unlike me. Well, on that day at least... Oh shut up. I picked up the biggest Chick Mag, over 400 pages of ads, and bopped him over the head with it. He blinked. I bopped him again. He blinked again. I slid my foot back in a perfect 'knee to the groin' position. He looked down, up, blinked. Then quickly turned and left. I was still clutching the magazine when some chick walked by me with tears in her eyes and managed to say "Thank Yo..." before biting her lip and giggling. I stood there in disbelief at what had just happened. I just bopped some guy on the head. Shit, I need to find another store
Somewhere between mindless asshole and male is the perfect description of the guy I met at the store. Or, as I fondly refer to it... "Stalkers Are Us". I understand it can be a lonely world out there. I know that people hide behind emails and computers far too much, and socialize far and far less. But I keep looking into the mirror and have to find the Official USO Gal tattooed on my forehead. Nor do I see a "Bored? Talk to me about shit no one wants to hear" bumper sticker on my ass. And yet there I was, innocently perusing the magazines for any George Clooney Pict... ER... articles, when HE started mimicking Chatty Cathy. "So, it was horrible, last week, huh? I think we all know what message they were trying to put across, Yesseree Bob, you don't have to hit me over the head with a sledge hammer to figure that one out..." Then he stood facing my profile. Totally invading my personal space circle. Waiting. Oh yes, just waiting for me to ask him what. I would not be sucking into that fucking manic conversation. I wasn't biting. I flipped the page. Some annoying [as if there were any other kind] picture of Christina Aguilera stared back at me. Fuck, that chick is so desperate to sell a makeup line that she just shoveled them all on so everyone could see their product at work. At at once. I can see why she's the darling of so many teenage girls' parents [major sarcasm]. Shit, still standing there. But he was doing something. Kind of like when a reflection catches the side glance. I looked out of instinct. He was doing what can only be described as the most exaggerated Joe Pesci expression while having a mild seizure. I turned slowly, in some mild horror that he took as "Go ahead, baby, fill me up with your wit... Then let's fuck" "Youknowwhatimsayin'? Make love, not war." My jaw dropped and rolled next to some discarded Grapefruit. Then I did something totally unlike me. Well, on that day at least... Oh shut up. I picked up the biggest Chick Mag, over 400 pages of ads, and bopped him over the head with it. He blinked. I bopped him again. He blinked again. I slid my foot back in a perfect 'knee to the groin' position. He looked down, up, blinked. Then quickly turned and left. I was still clutching the magazine when some chick walked by me with tears in her eyes and managed to say "Thank Yo..." before biting her lip and giggling. I stood there in disbelief at what had just happened. I just bopped some guy on the head. Shit, I need to find another store