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2007-04-07 @ 1:31 a.m.
mr cool shoes

Okay, you would have thought I learned my lesson the last time a nice looking guy spoke to me at the yuppie grocery store, when I was dressed in my gym clothes and my hair looked like I had brushed it with a hand mixer and I had no make up on and I was rushing around with a hand basket full of chocolate and cat food cans, that my future husband/lover, smiled and said hello to me. Do you know how often that happens to me? Like once every kamillionth of never.

Well, it happened again today. Its been extremely cold and icky out. Oh, and its also been cold and icky inside too. It seems that my landlord has deemed snowy weather with temperatures in the twenties a perfectly marvelous time to shut off the heat in our apartments. So while I was recovering from the flu the last two days, I've been walking around my apartment with the same number of coats Omar Shariff wore in "Dr. Zhivago". Coats over my robe...over my pajamas...over my triple thick socks. And then when I watched TV, I was also under a blanket with Guardcat suddenly all friendly seeking body heat. I did hear the heat come on in the middle of the night. But it was not on during the day. I touched the heaters and they were stone cold.

So in desperation for some warmth, I decided to do some laundry, because what better place to get warm than at a Laundromat? So I grabbed my bag of laundry, plus our nude model robe. That's my new task. Washing the robe and sometimes the sheets of our nude models. It kinda eeks me out though, especially when I started thinking about how all these women are sitting nekkid, with their lady bits on the same sheets week after week. So I think it was Charlemagne who suggested that it might be nice if we washed the sheets every week, just out a sense of decency. I know if I was sitting naked on a sheet, I certainly wouldn't want to be any where near someone else's bodily fluids. Like eww!

So I gathered up everything, although I carried the robe separate from my stuff and went over to the Laundromat in the next Village . It was busy as usual, with those type of people who feel the need to use like four tables to delicately fold 6 shirts. So I just dumped my stuff into a washer and then walked over to the pond to take some pictures of the swans. It was snowing like hell, but at least it wasn't sticking so that was good considering its been Spring for over two freakin' weeks.

I then went back and had to jump over McFrumpy Woman's 23 stacks of perfectly folded color coordinated kitty t-shirts. Right when I went to take my stuff out of the washer she grabbed the cart that was next to my washer and pulled it towards her, claiming it, I guess, making it necessary for me to carry large lumps of heavy wet clothes over to the other side of the Laundromat. Bitch.

This time, while things were drying, I ran over to the store and got some much needed chocolate, since I had been stuck home the day before...chocolateless. Can you imagine, being without this...the week that ALL ABOUT CHOCOLATE. Chocolate Easter eggs. Chocolate bunnies. Chocolate leprechauns. Oh wait, maybe that was in March. Anyways being without chocolate yesterday was horrible! I felt like Jack Lemmon in "Days of Wine and Roses" looking for that hidden booze bottle in the nursery, except I wasn't sleeping with Lee Remick.

Naturally the two chocolate Easter eggs with coconut were history by time I got back to the Laundromat. I still had about 10 minutes left on my dryer, so I sat and read some newspapers. Ha! Not really. My glasses were out in the car, so I just "pretended" to read, since all the print was little more than chicken scratches on the page. I mean I could sorta read it, if I held it like 57" away and squinted like Gilford Godfrey. And I really wished I could have because they had an article about "reading your toes" in the same way a person can read your palm, although I kinda wonder how you could discern a person's life line on a toe.

So I was sitting there, doing my pretending reading, when I was actually looking down at this guy's shoes. They were really cool looking shoes. Actually "J" at my old job has a similar pair. They aren't quite sneakers, but they aren't quite loafers. I really liked them and was gazing at them rather dreamily, too afraid to look up and see who was wearing them. Why? I looked atrocious. I hadn't showered since Wednesday. No brushing of hair. No make-up. I had pulled on my beret to cover up my stringy bangs. I also had on my tight jeans. Maybe this was good, but they were also totally covered with pastel dust from my art class and looked dirty. I mean I'm happy that I'm fitting into my tight jeans. I haven't fit into them for almost a year. I've been losing weight since my heart scare in January, and have lost almost 10 pounds. But still....

Anyways, my dryer finally stopped and I went over to get the clothes out. Unfortunately, the counter behind me was all taken up got it....Mr. Cool Shoes. So I just attempted to fold everything inside the dryer. And then I hear this voice. "I can move my stuff. You don't look very comfortable folding stuff inside the dryer...."

I turned around and saw this most delicious 40 something guy standing there. I said, "I was too shy to ask you." And he said, "No problem." and started moving his clothes baskets. I then shyly moved my net bag over with my minimal amount of clothes + Nude Model's Robe. I knew he was looking at me and I just freakin' knew I had to drop at least one pair of my underwear on the ground. Its the law. And I did. Gah! A yellow flowery pair. Dang! By then he was sitting and reading, but I could feel him looking over his newspaper at me.

I also felt like my hands were screwed on backwards and my heart was beating really fast. I just couldn't take the attention. I felt especially bad since I was dressed as my usual pale scrabbly hippy chick-self in the presence of this primo-deluxe yuppie supreme. I finally folded everything. Okay not really. I was too nervous. I just folded the big things and threw all my socks and underwear into the bag and started to walk out, which of course, required walking by my new "boyfriend." And you know what he said to me? You know what he said to me???

"It was nice meeting you!"

Oh my God. I was totally floored. Nobody has ever said that to me. Ever! Especially cute guys, with cool shoes, with a big hunking silver SUVs parked out in the parking lot. It had to have been a fluke. Maybe he didn't have his glasses on. Maybe it was National "Make a Funny-Looking Hippy Chick Happy" Day. Not really sure, but it sure made my day. I mean it probably wasn't meant to be taken anywhere. And he was probably just being nice. But wow. I sure needed that. Thanks, Random Yuppie Guy!!

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty