Tuesday, July 27, 2004

I wish I were anorexic...

People with anorexia have so much self control... Me, not so much. I eat any food put in front of me like some kind of starving zoo animal... I roll my eyes at people on the phone when they annoy me and give the finger quietly to my cubemate when she pisses me off. In other words, I have no self control.

I figure, if I was anorexic, I could probably have the self control to not do those other things.

Speaking of getting or giving the finger, I don't get hit on very much anymore. Ever since my single girl body has been weighed down by a huge diamond on the fourth finger of my left hand, I've found that men don't seem to notice me very much. I'm sure the extra 20 lbs I wear around like a wool sweater probably don't help either, but I'm going to say it's the diamond.

The one category of men I've noticed that still seem to like me are the Kwik Oil men. Apparently I exude some kind of hormone that only men who spend all day laying under cars can pick up. Every time I get my oil changed, it's the most exciting day ever, because I get hit on and flirted with and asked if I'm single (apparently Kwik Oil men aren't very good with noticing large diamonds either). It always eventually becomes creepy and I end up driving Little Aggie out of the parking lot as fast as her four wheels will allow her to go, but until that point, I always feel like the hottest woman on Earth.

Anyway, the other day, I got to experience flirtation at its best. I was speeding along on the highway, going at a pace that some might call speeding, but I just call it "I'm running late and I need to haul ass," when I arrived behind a beaten up pick up truck who was puttering along in the left lane. I did what any normal person with a pulse would do and dangerously tailgated him (Sweetie Pie says if I drive so close to the car in front of me he can't see the bumper, it's too close, but I just call it being space conscious. Lots of cars out there, I just want to make sure everyone has enough space). Anyway, Mr. crappy pick up truck was either not noticing my flirtatious ways, or he was gay. But either way, he wasn't moving.

Exasperated, I finally just passed him on the right (a huge no-no in Europe by the way, in case anyone cares). Well, by then, Mr. Crappy Pick Up Truck had noticed me, and if I might say, he really seemed to like what he saw, because he put his hand towards me and waved his middle finger at me.

I guess it's been a while since I've been single, but man, I had no clue that's how kids these days got girls' attentions. Guess I should just be glad someone felt enough pity for me to take me off the market.

Love,

Catwoman