You ain't ‘All That'

The weather was bee-yooo-tiful today, perfect for my girlie plans: got my hair, nails, pedi and a facial done. Felt like hot shit on a silver platter (served with a minty coulis). So there I am on the way home, doing my 'Miss Thang' thing as I swish down the street, popping into various stores for week-end supplies, when I pass a bum outside the liquor store. (Imagine that.)

He looks up, spots me and, expression brightening, says:
"Hey, I saw you earlier strutting your stuff down the street."

Yup.

That would be moi.

VOGUE,Vogue,
vogue...

"So what's your sign?"

blink.

LMAO! Well, if a guy who keeps all his worldly goods in a rusted out shopping cart feels like he can give me game, then whatever the heck I thought I was strutting, just couldn't be 'all that', now could it? ::snort::

(To be fair, bums have libidos too. They keep it tied up with some found string and chewing gum, stuffed in a classic Coke bottle they've been saving since 1963.)

Don't look at me like that, y'all already know I'm gonna burn.



I bought a laptop, but didn’t buy the remote thingie that makes it web accessible in the apartment. So no surfing, or email on it. Just writing. We’ll see what happens.... :-P