soapboxdiner

Providing wacky action since 1973

I think sometimes the heavens know what a girl needs and sees fit to provide it.

Take, for example, last night's entry regarding love and romance; or more specifically, my longing and remembrance of love and romance.

Follow?

Okay. Now couple that with this morning's post on boredom.

Pretty clear what the universe had to send me, isn't it? Well hallelujah! That's exactly what I got this afternoon. I am nearly sated, darlings.

So there I am in the Mailbox Etc this afternoon. Mailbox Guy is there. He's always there, or at least the four or five times I've gone in, he's been the only one there. Kinda cute guy. Creamy chocolate skin. Braids. Louis Vaton leather jacket (this I don't hold against him too much, just because he's sweet and, well, he's a guy. He can't be held responsible for ugly fashion choices... too much.) He has Smooth Jazz on the radio. He chats and smiles and flatters. He is a famous flatterer.

And as I am completing my transaction with Mailbox Guy, returning smiles and applauding his choice of soothing instrumental jazz. I look over to the wall as I'm waiting for the ATM card to process and I see... what? Yes. The requisite calendar of flashy sports car and gorgeous girl in a sparkly silver metallic dress. The dress looks as if it is scrunched down the front center by a giant dress-sized rubber band. You've seen these dresses? Cut down to the waist for maximum cleavage exposure. Horizontal bunches of fabric fanned in bow-like precision - tight bunches in the center and spreading up and outward towards the sides. The hemline is mid-thigh in back and scrunched up to just under the crotch in the front. Picturing this dress? Oh, yes. And lest you forget, this scrap of fabric is what? Oh, that's right - shiny silver metallic.

So I say, "Wow. That's some dress."

To which he affirms, "Yeah, ain't it? You'd look good in a dress like that."

"Oh, honey. You don't want to see me in that dress. I'd scare you."

"What! You'd look great. I bet your husband would really like it."

Okay - now he's just fishing for personal info. (tee hee!) But I'm not biting. Uh uh. What's the fun there?

"Well, I might consider it. If he had a car like that."

"Ahhhh girl! You work it baby. Yeah, girl." And he gives me the appreciative browse up and down snap to the side neck roll with cockeyed knowing smile.

Which I return with a raised eyebrow twitch wink hip swing hair toss. I know, I know. The level of difficulty of this maneuver might have been more than was necessary - but as I always say, "Why give'm a double axel when you can wow them with a triple salchow?" That's what I always say, anyway.

It must have been the clam diggers - which had nothing to do with my pants being too short, if you follow - we're talking commando here, darlings. Because I'm wacky like that.

I think I'm gonna have to find a pocket-sized version of Mailbox Guy. He's such a gentleman.

6:55 pm - 02.20.03
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