11-02-00
News Flash:
Skeevy Small-Townie* Says Web Darling Is The 'Sweetest Thing'!
I'm sitting in Diamond Dave's Taco Co. after work, having a drink with my Advanced Non-Adhesive Bookbinding teacher (Anna to the average person), when a short, hairy neanderthal wanders over to our booth and informs me that his buddy thinks that I am "the sweetest thing he's ever seen. I mean slamming, you got it going on!"
I look over towards his buddy and see a tall, dorky-looking guy with hockey hair, the longest part pulled back into a vanity ponytail, a baseball cap and a sweatshirt and stonewashed jeans playing Golden Tee 2K (arcade-quality golf!), completely absorbed in the machine, not even looking my way.
I offer up a polite, "Geez, that's sweet, but no thank you."
Anna half-heartedly attempts to hide a snicker behind her beer bottle.
The hairy guy nudges his way into the booth and sits down on my skirt. He makes a lame attempt to chat us up, asking me and Anna about if we go to school, what I'm studying, what she does for a living, what I'm studying ("Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot.") and whether or not I think his buddy's got it 'going on'.
I tell him again that I am not interested, and return to explaining the rules of Circle of Death to Anna when Neanderthal asks me if I'm really sure that I'm not interested. It will apparently break Hockey Hair's heart that I am not willing to be his bitch or something along those tawdy lines.
"I'm a heartbreaker," I admit to him, and tug my skirt out from under his ass, take a swig of my drink and explain the rules some more when he shrugs and gets up, telling us to have a nice evening, and wanders off.
I'd like to add that during this entire 2 minutes of discomfort, his friend that was passionately in love with me did not even so much as look over at us. In fact, he seemed rather intently focused on the screen of the golf game. I would go so far as to suggest that he didn't even seem aware that we were across the room. He also didn't seem terribly broken up when his buddy walked up to him and, I presume, broke his heart on my behalf.
I think it was my pink ruffled ankle socks that drew them in. Nothing says 'sweetest thing' like pink ruffled ankle socks and chunky black loafers. Or something along those lines.
*I use this term because there seem to be a disproportionally large number of mullets and NASCAR fashion plates that live in smaller towns around here. Generically, I claim they all come from Lone Tree, although I'm fairly sure that West Branch and West Liberty offer up a generous portion of their kind as well.
