2003-08-07

This morning as I was walking the dog, a gentleman of a headbanger-ish persuasion passed me on the sidewalk. He was a scruffy but otherwise unremarkable specimen, and I didn’t give him more than a passing glance as he approached. “Excuse me,” he said pleasantly as we neared each other.

“Yeah?” I said, expecting to be asked for a cigarette or street directions.

“Can I have your number?” he asked.

“Uh…no, sorry,” I laughed. Gotta give him credit for trying, right? Just keep swinging there, slugger!

“Too bad,” he called over his shoulder as I walked away. “I’ve got a huge dick.” Bwahaha!

You know, I think seven-thirty AM is just far too early for any sort of public pronouncements about your genitalia. That’s really more of an after-nine-PM, stumbling-out-of-the-pub sort of activity, wouldn't you agree? Someone should write down rules of etiquette for these situations. I should shoulder the burden, since I have such a finely honed sense of social subtleties. I could be the Miss Manners for the new millennium. (“It is advisable to wait for the third date before showing your prospective Mr/Mrs Right your collection of amputee porn. Any sooner could be perceived as indelicate.”)

Anyway, naturally I ran after Long Dong Halen and we made sweet monkey love until I had to catch my bus. Who could resist such silver-tongued wooing?