So, an MTA bus driver (old crusty looking, just off work, still sportin his uniform, and buying a 40) hands this Iranian, carmel, dreamsicle cashier (so cute) his $2.47 IN CHANGE! Crusty turns and looks dead at my boobs. He looks so far into my chest that he can find the scar from me burning my tits from a pop tart 5 years ago. He finally finds my face and is like 'hey, miss miss, wanna have a drink wit me'. Of course, i had my boyfriends Four Loco and my Boones Farm in my hand. I just shook my head and diverted my gaze like I'm Rosie O'Donnel.
maybe I could take it as a compliment. Maybe I could come off classy. I could smile, nod, and politely shake my head no. Maybe I could run up to him and thrust my boobs into his face and take a deep breath and say aaaaaabsolutely.
Um, no not going to happen. Completely offended here. If I weren't going to sooth my shitty day with that there Boones, I would shove it up his walnut shaped ass.
I swear. There are crawdaddies for any occasion. Crawdaddies everywhere. Hangin out at corner stores, Mcdonald's, Claires, salon's, subways, airports, parks, senior centers, sports bars, librarys, yo mama's house, church, school, movie theaters, bathrooms, rest stops, book clubs, gyms, target, band practice, FCA, work, hospitals, and even up your nose. Blah blah.
this concludes my C moment of the Day.