Holler at your girl

I bet if there was an Olympic event for good looking people, I would maybe win silver.

I have been honked at/heckled at in every city I've visited, including Chicago (which I am soooo behind in updating).

I was in Charlottesville the past few days, and even in a deserted college town in the middle of the night, while a friend and I are chatting on a street corner in the midst of stores that closed hours ago, SOMEHOW we still get honked at 4-5 times. We were also serenaded.

The next day, while getting coffee at Barnes and Nobles with the Fox, we're hit on. It started because all the tables were filled, except for one next to this kind of sketchy man. Whatever. I sit down. This man is sporting an afro and a bald spot. How is that possible, I don't know. Imagine an afro and then shave off the entire top part. He is wearing this fashionable three piece tan/camel colored suit straight from the 70s. He leans over and introduces himself. I smile, respond, ignore him.

According to the Fox, he told his colleague (I can't even describe what this woman looks like) that I was pretty. Fox tried not to laugh and wanted to tell me that the man of my dreams was sitting right next to me. I heard them talking, continued to ignore them. Then the man's colleague pointed out that Fox was also very pretty and that we were probably sisters.

At this point, while I'm in the middle of a long-winded rant and pouring my heart out, he leans over and introduces himself. He leaves out the part about him finding me attractive and only says, "My friend here thinks you're both very pretty. Are you sisters?"

I quickly say no and try to ignore him/continue the conversation. Fox responds that we're kind of like sisters, which is true, and this somehow encourages him to re-introduce himself. His name is Garland. He shook our hands. Told us again how we were pretty. I try very very hard to ignore him some more.

This tactic has failed me before, as Comer so kindly pointed out when we told her this story. For a while, every time I went into Harris Teeter this woman would follow me around or conveniently appear next to me and ask if I needed help or try to make conversation. She'd always point out samples and I'd always nod politely and try to ignore her. I just figured she was really really socially special.

Then Comer and I went to pick up a birthday cake. We were in a rush and I was signing for the cake and the woman, who HAPPENED to show up to collect the cake for me from the back bakery, kept asking me if it was for a birthday, if we were having a party, etc. I gave her one word answers and kept talking to Comer because we had more important things to discuss - like whether or not I should eat the regular or lowfat sugar cookie in the "for children only" box.

APPARENTLY, this woman had been trying to hit on me and the whole time was shooting dagger glares at Comer. Since then, every time I've returned to Charlottesville and gone to the Harris Teeter, I've seen her. I've brought many a witness with me and this woman stalks me with her eyes. As if she were a giant bear and I was a salmon, swimming upstream with the hopes of finding a dream salmon to mate with and not a bear that wants to devour me. Ugh. Those last few words made me vomit in my mouth.

THEN tonight, at an ABC store in northern Virginia, a bunch of guys were at the register and one of them asked if I needed help. I responded, "No thanks, I'm good."

And then I hear, "Damn right you are. Mmm."

Maybe it's a tactic to make women buy more alcohol than they need. A kind of "if I drink 3 handles by myself and right before I pass out, I lose my ability to see/hear/talk/think, then maybe you'll be attractive" mentality.

Haha. Joke's on him. My prison name isn't "Scrumptious" for no reason.