Loading ...I thought I would share with you my interaction at the comic book store on Wednesday. Believe it or not, if I’d'a wanted to, I could of picked me up a fine woman! At the comic book store!
Every Wednesday is comic book day, as every fat man in his 30s surely knows. And every Wednesday, this fat man in his 30s is at his local comic shop, getting his comic books.
Now, I used to cut one fine figure. People would swoon as I walked by. Just ask Che. They’d swoon as she walked by as well. The two of us had no trouble getting dates. But years of graduate school and a teenage daughter caused me to pack on the pounds. As you know, I have a trainer who is helping me get back to my pre-graduate school, pre-teenaged daughter self, but as of now, I fit in quite well at the comic book store.
Except for my attire. I have to wear a suit and tie to work. No big deal really. Makes getting dressed every day easy. Don’t have to think about what I’m going to wear. There was a time, when I wouldn’t have been caught dead in a suit, but now, I wear them daily. Besides, men “of a certain size” look better in a suit. No one else in the comic book store is in a suit. Believe me.
So there I was, comics in hand, walking back to my car when I heard “So where you off to?”
I said, “Pardon?” I turned around and saw a stereotype. A complete and total stereotype. It was a woman, who may have been in her 30s or 40s, but who had been aged about 40 years by a constant diet of cigarettes and booze. She was wearing a minidress (black, of course, spaghetti straps). She was also wearing stilletos (black, also with what looked like spaghetti straps). She had a jacket that was hanging off one arm, and a cigarette that was hanging out of her mouth. There were tattoos all up and down her arms and legs, and not interesting tattoos like Che’s or Mojo’s. Sort of the “Mom!” and “Marines!” type of tattoos.
And she walked with more than a little swagger.
“I said, where you off to?” she said.
“Home,” said I.
“I just thought you looked good in that suit,” said she. “I figured you must be going somewhere good dressed like that.”
What happened next completely surprised me. I became flattered. A drunk prostitute was telling me that I looked good, and a female one, no less. There was absolute nothing that she had to offer me that I would have wanted. But I was flattered.
I said, “No, just coming home from work. Nowhere exciting.”
We talked for a bit, and she seemed a little less drunk and a little more attractive to me. Just give me a little flirting and I’m yours apparently.
She went off her way, and I went off on mine. As I got in my car, I heard her say, “That’s a NICE suit.”
You never know what will make your day.
Buy me a beer!
If you enjoyed this article please with your favourite bookmarking tool, or donate to assist with site maintenence and to keep tarot readings free. Thanks!
Email this post to a friend
408 Views
Recently:
- Story a Day: Elephant Bones
- Story a Day: Does Your Mother Know
- Story a Day: Eight Summers In Addis Ababa
- Story a Day: A Simple Question
- Story a Day: Arsenal of Flavor
- Story a Day: The Cardboard Doll
- Story a Day: Beggars Would Ride
- Story a Day: Born Into Light
- Story a Day: Deep Fried Moose
- Story A Day: Roscoe Falls Reflections
Comments
This entry was posted on Friday, August 3rd, 2007 at 7:59 pm and is filed under criminal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Very cool!
Yes, there was a time when you never would have been caught dead wearing a suit. You were the worst dressed gay man on earth (yet as you say, had no difficulty getting dates). Whereas I was rather well-dressed.
Now the tides have turned, and you dressed in nice suits, and I wear pajamas and converse sneakers.
Well, I’ll finish this thought later. Dr Who is coming on.
oh dear, drunk prostitute makes your day! Waay too funny!
Now my morning started off with me going to my corner store to use the bank machine and this guy asking me, “How’ve you been?”
I looked at him. Big Buff European accented guy! My eyes widen
“I’m good, can’t complain.”
“Do you remember me?” he asks.
“Hmm! Did you use to work here?”
“Yes! yes, about 4 years ago.”
He proceeds to tell me, “You’re looking really good and fit” then looked at me like he could suck all the meat off my bones. He made the gesture that I was good tough stock.
I thought to myself, ‘He’s checking me out and I like how this feels.’
We chatted a bit more (and I got a full look at how hot he was) and I had to leave the store and get to work.
I felt him watching me as I left and I stopped for a second at the store window so he could have one more good look.
As I walked to work, I smiled to myself and had that moment where I pictured this torrid sex scene with he and I. phew!
It kept me grinning all day long.
So it was our hot day Richard, here’s to more of em in a row. And may the next woman that you don’t want who checks you out not look like a prostitute… I’m just saying.
I’m trying to remember the last time a drunk prostitute made my day. I’m sure there was such a time.
I’ve known a couple of crack hos….
Several junk hos….
Can’t say any of’em ever made my day though. Most of’em have just wanted to borrow money off me.
Yeah like I got money.
You know, I really think that I may be sans drunk prostitute story! And here I thought I had a story about everything.
I guess I’d better get to work on that one.
Shelley, here’s to the possibility of your torrid sex scene coming true with big buff European accented guy!
Living in New York, you’d think I’d have lots of drunk prostitute stories, but no, I have to come out to Jersey before that happens.
And I feel compelled to say that I know that “could of” is actually a homophone of “could’ve” which is a contraction of “could have.”
I was using artistic license.
Whew! Glad to get that off my chest.