"Topless"

07/24/2002

So the other day I'm driving home from work. It's a little less than the typical summer afternoon in the greater DC Metropolitan area in that the air wasn't quite the consistancy of overcooked oatmeal. It was more like, well, air. Regardless, I still had all the windows rolled up and the A/C set on "Arctic Blast". (Hey, I paid for a car with A/C so I'm gonna use it, damnit.)

Anyway, here I was cruising along with the rest of traffic at the mind boggling speed of approximately 15 m.p.h. when a chick in a little convertible whips past me and cuts in front of the car in front of me. Now in the interest of full disclosure, she was only going about 5 m.p.h. faster than the rest of us, but it was enough that I noticed it and in my head went, "Whoa, honey! The good parking spot in front of your condo will still be there when you get home."

The car in front of me turned at the next light which put me right behind Little Miss Black Convertible. I noticed that she had long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail but couldn't tell anything else about her. That more than anything I think saved me from having sexual fantasies about her, that car and a set of metric wrenches. What can I say, the drive home is usually pretty boring because John Ballard on DC101 sucks more afternoon ass than a Southwest airlines flight overbooked for a Weight Watchers convention in Las Vegas.

In order to avoid the highways, I take a more circumbendibus route home than you might think if you were to look at a map of the area. I ended up following the chick in the convertible for a couple of miles because she kept taking my turns before I got to them. While I thought this odd at the time I did start to wonder if she was going to think I was stalking her ('cause you know, it's all about ME). Even though I hadn't seen anything but the back of her head it's a chick in a convertible, dude! I was already mentally polishing my metric tool set. And no, that's not a euphemism, ya freakin' perverts.

It wasn't until we both stopped at a red light that I realized it was a guy. I immediately switched my mental gears. As he slowly turned his head to the right and I got my first clear look at his face, I began repeatedly punching myself in the crotch. Black convertible, Miata, ponytail, guy? Fuck. It was Todd.

If you'll excuse me now, I have to go scrub my brain with some steel wool and a Clorox/napalm cleanser.

My two pence is that it serves you right, seeing as how you were looking at a hot babe in a convertible when you have a fine lady to call your own already. Greedy bastid. The fact that it was Todd just coated my keyboard with Diet Pepsi. - Lisa ~ Lisafer @ 12:23 p.m. EST on 07/24/2002