Summer has hit. And even though I grew up in Texas, I HATE the heat. Actually, it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. And my little city just seems to get more and more like Houston every day in that department. Blech.
What that really means, though, is that I’m cranky. And my usual (low) tolerance for stupid people drops to an even lower threshold. So I was actually quite amused by what I witnessed yesterday.
I was on my way to buy a new pair of fat pants. Behind me in traffic is a beautiful woman in a black VW Beetle. Windows all the way down. Neckline down even further. Dewey fresh girls in full effect. She was jammin’ to some tune—I couldn’t hear what. And in between rhythmic gyrations, she power-primped. Fix the hair, check the teeth, lick the lips. I half expected her to whip out a blow dryer.
Suddenly, she turns and waves seductively at the car next to her. As traffic moves, this car takes the slot next to me. It is one of those pedophile panel vans being driven by a middle-aged African American dude. And he is SMILING like you wouldn’t believe. I guess the view into the Beetle was even more alluring from a higher vantage point. Maybe she wasn’t wearing panties. I kind of grossed myself out thinking of the various possibilities.
The man in the van gave me one of those looks that straight guys give each other. You know, the “check-it-out-Dude-I-could-so-get-me-some-of-that” look.
I looked back, mouthed the word “eww” and tried to inch up as close to the car in front of me as possible. I mean, do I LOOK LIKE I want to empathize with the pussy hound? I kept wishing I had a little rainbow flag. Or that I could tie my shirt off in a halter-esque way. Or maybe I just should have given him a taste of what she gave him and winked, smiled and blown him a kiss.
After all, the van did have privacy shades.