So here's the latest: The guy showed up yesterday (after I had to call and remind him) and took a look at things. They'll need to order a new part, and in the meantime I can use pliers - very carefully - to work the switch. The switch itself is fine; the dryer will still work, but if I'm not careful, I could damage that, too.
Information that would've been useful to me THE DAY BEFORE.
The other drawback to this situation is something I hadn't anticipated, but will make perfect sense after I explain it; this whole episode has clearly gotten my unimpressive-yet-constantly-evolving mack game on tilt.
Wednesday I went to the laundromat because, you'll remember, no dry socks. I should point out here that I'm pretty sure I've never been to a laundromat before in my life. I was surprised at how bland it was. You'd think there'd be more color what with there being clothes washed there and all. But it's really a gray, depressing place. General Hospital was on. At least I think it was General Hospital. That still comes on at 3, right?
Anyway, my point. I tossed my stuff in the dryer and bounced over to a little gift shop next door. I was in there to get a bottle of water (99 cents there as opposed to $1.25 from the machine in the laundromat) and I'm browsing past the candles and stuff when I spot this blonde out of the corner of my eye.
Okay, "I was blinded by this blonde" is more accurate. Dirty blonde hair, light blue cross-neck tank top (with matching bra. What? The straps were right out there) and a little micro mini with "CHAMP" written on the back. Guys, this was Anna Kournikova with a rack. There's no other way to say it. By herself, buying party supplies, no visible claiming jewelry, nothing.
What do I do? Nothing.
I might have tried to say something funny to break the ice if I was in a better mood. But one thing I have learned is that you have to be in a positive frame of mind, or at least just have a "WTF?" attitude about the whole thing. I was neither. Now, I could have tried to play it cool, but women see through those things. It IS a little like poker; if you're on tilt, if you're not OK mentally, your game will suffer.
(The other problem you run into, especially down here at this time of year, is the whole age thing. This is really a whole other post, but I swear girls are maturing and developing even earlier now. And it keeps happening at earlier and earlier ages. It's extremely dangerous. I'm at the point now where I almost can't tell anymore. You really do have to err on the side of caution, I think. Lord knows we don't need any more Dupins walking around.)
See, I was in the mood I was in because I was at the freakin' laundromat.
Of course, if I didn't need to go to the laundromat, I wouldn't have seen her in the first place.
How do you like them apples?
1 comment:
HERE'S a funny and exclusive story for you.
CUE UP: Thomas Dolby's "She Blinded Me With Science"--no, wait, Mobb Deep's "Got It Twisted"
Last Friday night. I work with A (a guy) and G (a girl). Friends with both, A's into G, G's got a man. Understandably, A's like whatcha man gots to do with me? But it's bumming him, so we go out. A: doesn't drink. Doesn't dance.
This'll become important later.
We hit a billiard hall and play. On my way out I see a cute girl wearing a "It's my birthday: SPANK ME" sticker. It's nestled into her chest. Seriously.
Holy hell, did I get some reverb off of the smack. And then I just kept walking out of the joint with him in tow. He Is In Shock. We head off to a club. And when that line's too long, we go to one next door.
With the no dancing thing, he's at a table the opposite side from the dance floor. It's a solid half-minute walk, too. Keep in mind, I drink and dance.
So I hit the floor as I am wont to do and end up at the end of the floor. That works for me: there's two cute black girls there but I'm really into their friend. She's brunette, shoulder length hair, Latina, AND AND AND knows all the words to "Ain't No Fun".
Honestly, I'm ready to cut the shit and marry her. And of course there's competition. Here's the thing: if he sits closer to the floor, I have the tag out. "There's my friend, he's sort of bummed, I should buy him a drink and check on him." See, that's a segue to her thinking what an awesome guy I am to worry about my friend and gets her and her friends over to the table, 3:2. But it doesn't happen.
All I needed was a five-second window to tag out, didn't get it. Last I saw of her, she had her arm around the other guy.
Ain't that about a B?
Post a Comment