toot toot

not to toot my own horn, but i looked super hot the other day. i mean, i generally like to think that i didn't fall out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down, but sometimes, i know i'm looking extra fine. how do i know, you might ask? well, there's the obvious healthy dose of self-confidence (which is possibly slightly exaggerated in my case sometimes), but there's really nothing more ego-boosting than other people letting you know you look good (there are definite exceptions to this rule. the next time some asshole looks me up and down and calls me "sexy" as i walk into jury duty at 9:00am, i'll stab him in the heart with a prison-style shank fashioned from a toothbrush).

sit back and let me regale you with my tale of ultimate hotness...

first, there was chuck at bevmo. as i approached chuck, i was just trying to get some info quickly. i did not strut, saunter or shimmy towards him, and i was wearing an outfit that is tame for me (while i usually prance about in miniskirts and tight sweaters, i really butched it up that day with a cute cowgirl shirt and some jeans), so i was surprised when his attention turned flirtatious. sometimes, you just can't keep down the sexy.

chuck complimented me as a great customer, then asked how my day was and what i do for a living. i was there to check about keg availability, so i followed him to the walk-in refrigerator, where he warned me i might get cold. we stood inside, discussing my options for a few moments, and i apologized for making him stand in the cold while i made a decision. he responded: "oh, it's ok! at least we're alone in here." ummmmmmmmmkkkkaayyyyy? is that a line? i wasn't sure what to say, so i giggled, made a quick decision and hurried out of there before chuck attempted to act on some bizarre keg/walk-in refrigerator fantasy. he asked for my name to reserve the keg, then sadly told me he wouldn't be there when i picked up the keg in the morning. sad face. i said that maybe we'd have better luck next time, and he told me he hoped so. ok, so chuck wanted me, right? i know! he was practically begging for a piece.

after beating chuck off with a stick, i made my way to ralphs as part of the great pomegranate hunt of 2008 (screw you, pomegranate, for not being "in season"). while in the checkout line, the bag boy (man? calling him a bag man sounds like he is homeless? like the male version of a bag lady?), turned to me, smiled, and said, "my you're beautiful." sure, he was 60 years old, cross-eyed, had a band aid on his forehead and left me with the distinct impression that he was a few chromosomes short, but he thinks i'm hot! there's no stopping this caboose! it's goin' all the way to sexy town!

later, i joined K and E for lebanese in hollywood (no, that's not some sort of lesbian joke. lebanese. like the food. from lebanon.), where our waiter continued the inexplicable trend of rachel morgan flattery. when he was going over our order, he referred to me as "the lady," and then invited me to a party when he cornered me on the way back from the bathroom. riding high on the wave of "everyone thinks i'm hot," i may have shamelessly flirted back (just for fun), and waiterboy soon joined the ranks of my ravenous romeos. i was hot shit, and everybody knew it.

it's been three days since i was the sexiest single in los angeles. no one has thrown themselves at me since, but i have faith that the flattery and flirting will pick up again. after all, when you're hot, you're hot!