I was hit on by the son of this woman who was hosting a party that I had to go to for work.
So get this. Instead of introducing himself to me, this 29-year-old guy, red chest hair peeping prominently through his barely-buttoned oxford, and red wine in hand at 3:00 pm, said: "I have to show you my bedroom."
Well, seeing no other choice in the matter, as my delicate social being was paralyzed with shock and horror, I followed the 29-year-old bare-chested, wine-bearing man into the depths of his rich parents' apartment (where, mind you, he STILL LIVED!) so that he could show me his bedroom. As I slunk farther away from civilized humanity, I heard one of the hostess's friends mutter under her breath, "Well, that's a tactic I've never heard before!"
That made two of us...
Well, he showed me his room which had...are you ready for this....LEOPARD PRINT CARPET, which, according to him warranted my witnessing its existence (since I happened to be wearing blue, totally different, cute and conversely rather tasteful leopard print stockings ;-) ). But, the show didn't end there--what I saw will haunt me for the rest of my days... On top of the leopard print carpet sat a twin-sized bed, dressed with a brown paisley patterned duvet cover, a brown paisley which had somehow been cloned against its will and reborn as wallpaper, which covered every non-leopard surface in the tiny bedroom. Before I blanked out, I think I did see a couple board games and a desktop PC....
Well--in any case, my quick observations just outside the threshold of this chamber came of course as some relief to me and my instincts for basic survival for three reasons. Firstly, as the bed was a twin, then certainly the worst of what he might have possibly been advertising could somewhat easily have been avoided through some simple clumsiness of the elbow or knee. Secondly I'm sure if I ran in one direction or another, he'd hardly be able to find me as my leopard stockings might have a zebra-herd effect on him. And thirdly that should I have actually stepped foot into the room itself, I am certain that I might have gone into a severe state of sensory overload and subsequent paraplectic shock, leading most likely to a swift loss of consciousness and hopefully some decreased memory of the whole fiasco which might then have allowed me to sleep peacefully.
Fortunately, I told him his little room was nice and bolted in the opposite direction.
Later the same night I was also hit on by a French black man named Prince who made me blush. And I ate some cookies.
Went on with little strain or injury, most likely in order to prepare me for the next happy set of occurrences! (Shucks, don't you hate it when that happens?)
I got into a car accident when some idiotic, probably drunk, jerk nearly t-boned my dad's fancy prius while I was driving a friend and my sister to tea. Yay car crashes!
Then I got a fever and felt pretty dizzy and had chills. Yay fever illness!
Then I was berated by another (yes, different) diva-man artist. And this time I DID start crying (after I hung up). Yay egotistical assholes!
Then I fell asleep for about 24 hours and now I feel much better, but what the hell!?!
Slept through all of Monday and find myself here, on Tuesday, still reeling.
Hey, maybe this is the price I need to pay for next week, when I'll undoubtedly get laid.
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Great news, however, on the flipside: I figured out why all these people in the Ukraine, Germany and Indonesia have been reading my blog! They all searched google for the term "panties" or "kiddy panties" and found my post about the Dorian Panties! Too bad they found a shriveled, scanned version of what they were looking for...