Friday, June 18, 2010

More A Reflex Than Anything Else

No need to look at me like that. I get this all the time. I know you saw me looking but I was just curious, I see a pair of legs like that dozens of times a day. A dime a dozen I tell you, so wipe that look off your face because to assume I was fantasizing about anything other then you maybe becoming a personal fetcher, and fetching my personal things after a hard days work is beyond presumptuous on your part, and actually borders on inexcusable public self-gratification. And really, if you need your ego stroked by wearing that skirt, (whose fabric seemed vaguely exotic to me and piqued my curiosity bringing this whole situation to its current predicament)…If you need that self-gratification by every man who walks by you then just go home and stick an onion if your fat vagina. Yes, I can tell your vagina is fat because of your slim form fitting exotic fabric skirt. I’m not saying its (editors note: the vagina’s) not nice it just looks like it has taken on a bit of water weight is all. I know women get bloated at times so I actually don’t hold it against you.

No, I’m not saying your ugly, actually you’re fairly attractive in relative terms. You know, relative to your race, weight, place of business, those types of things, but I would have looked down if you looked like Chewbacca…Why? Because of the goddamn exotic fabric that’s why, and your crotch peeking little hello glances at me. Is that a floral pattern? I’ve never seen flowers like that…lilies? You don’t say. Well listen, I’m happy we straightened this whole mess out, I’m not interested in you and you're not interested in me so I think we should exchange the common place pleasantries of our respective cultures and be on our way! What’s that look? You mean you are interested in me….Well I don’t want to come off as an ass hat, but I was getting that feeling, I have a knack for things like that you see, especially when you start looking at my hair. Don’t look at my hair that way and don’t ask any questions about it either. I’m not being an asshole…I can just tell we would never work, you with your shallowness and all. Why, I can tell you’re shallow because of that skirt. Is that silk? I've never seen a skirt made of silk with that kind of floral pattern, the workmanship of it really is incredible. No, I’m not flirting with you. No, I do not have an erection. (editor’s note: I do have an erection, but it’s just a small one and entirely [editors note: mostly] coincidental) That happens sometimes and you shouldn’t take it as an invitation.

Okay so we’ve both looked at each others crotches, and I’ve admitted you’re attractive and you think I’m pretty interesting but really you’re not my type, do you even know what a dragon's tooth sword is? Let me just shake your hand and once you depart I’ll forget this ever happened. I have a memory like that; it’s finicky like an old stapler. You know there are staples in there but it won’t staple. Dave asks me if I’m sure there are staples in it, and I’m thinking you’re even dumber than I am if you think I don’t know there are not staples in this goddamn stapler, meanwhile I’m discretely trying to open a new pack of staples and get it into the stapler before Dave demands to examine the stapler himself…if he does it’ll be an embarrassment alright, my face will get hotter than Paris Hilton’s lexicon. (sigh)

I don’t think I got your name. Nice to meet you they call me Handstyle. Well who the fuck are you (editors note: word implores me to write: "who the fuck is you." Word is from Mexico?) to say that’s a weird name, you go to Mongolia and they think Susan is a pretty rotten name too. I didn’t mean to make you upset, why do girls become upset so easily, they’re so emotional you would think they would earn enough skill points in that area to manage their emotions more effectively.

So you’re not interested anymore? Well that is invariably what happens on these chance encounters. (editors note: I notice the skirt has a neat little plead in it as she walks away)