Pussy... cat?

So this takes place back in the archives of tender childhood, when I was young and innocent... about 10 years old or so.

The phone rings and I answer it...
"Hello?"
and a dark and dirty voice answers,
"Hello little girl... do you have a pussy?"

Now, I have lived and still live my whole life with cats. Back then I slept every night with my good old kitty cat on the bed, snuggled in, keeping warm. He was my best friend and when you're 10, friends are everything.

So I say;
"Oh, yeah!"
and that dirty ol' perv replies,
"Well what does it look like?"
So I say, in all my young innocent honesty,
"Oh, well, his name is Sammy and he's gray and has yellow eyes, and he's kinda fat but I think he's cute. He sleeps on my bed every night and he's soft and I like to pet him."
there is this long pause while ol' perv gets the idea that he's not getting anywhere...
"No, not... I mean, not a... aw, fercrissakes, nevermind!" all pissed off he hangs up.

Well I was pretty confused. My mom asked me who called and I said it was some guy asking about the cat, so she wanted me to tell her everything we said... and she never explained why she laughed herself senseless.

Why blondes don't get tickets

I love my car. I love to drive fast and I refuse to drive an automatic, because I like the feeling of control in a standard and the way you can really get it moving. Driving an automatic just fucks me all up and leaves me feeling useless and bored.

So the main road was freshly paved, after months and months of raised manhole covers and grooved pavement. I was psyched! So were the cops. You know the story, small town, no crime; so they are bitterly rabid about speeding. I mean, they get you if you are 4 miles per hour over. Sigh.

So, it was freshly paved, and I was fucking goddamn late. As usual. But I wasn't worried, because I was driving a fast little car (my old Jetta, sweet little burgundy piece of German engineering, complete with sick stereo and sunroof) and, well, I'm blonde. Yes, blonde. Why would that keep me from worry? Allow me to illustrate.

Ok, so freshly paved, me in my little car, late. I pull out of my road onto this slick sweet blacktop, smiling broad, disco on, and whip the car into a frenzy, got it up to 55 in the space of 15 yards. Yeeehaw! Shit. That. Was. A. Fuckin'. Cop. Yep, on the side street, sweet as can be, he saw the whole thing. Crap. I knew he was coming for me so I slowed only just a bit, real casual, I'm not doing anything wrong...

Blue lights... and over I go. Nicely dressed, hands on the dashboard, sunny smile, turn the music off. Roll the window down, get all ready, compliant and sweet...
I look in the rearview mirror... Oh, Joy! This is gonna be TOO easy!! Young rookie, chubby, not in the least attractive. Poor guy, doesn't even know what's coming.

So he steps up to the car, and mumbles his opening lines. Asks me if I know why I have been pulled over, so I dimple at him and say, "no, officer." Hee hee!
He said, "You were speeding; I clocked you going 55 and this is a 35 mph zone."
My eyes widened (as if in) surprise and I said...

I actually said, groaning inside (you idiot, he's never gonna fall for that shit!)

"Gasp!" whipping my head towards my speedometer, "I didn't know this little old car could get up that fast!"

so, feeling a sense of doom (you've pushed it too far, you really are a dumb blonde, you idiot...) I felt elation when he actually leaned casually on the door of my car and said,
"Heh heh, yeah, I know, it's so easy to get going on the fresh blacktop, you just gotta take it easy. Where you going in such a hurry?"
(oh my god I can't believe it the gods are smiling on me today)
So I dimple at him again,
"Oh, I'm late for class, I am never late I don't know what my problem is!"
So he asks for license and reg, the usual, and of course I don't have my license so sweet as pie I say,
"Oh, it's in my backpack which is back there" (pointing to the backseat) "I could get out and get it for you if you like?"
So he said to me,
"No, no that's alright, I take it you live right down there? Listen, though, I am patrolling this neighborhood, lots of speeding cuz of the new pavement, just take it easy huh? You have a good day."

Ahhhh, a triumph for the blonde.
Some people will say it's evil, and perpetuates the myth of feminine wiles and manipulation. I say, if they're dumb enough to fall for it and think that I'm a dumb blonde, they deserve it. Hah.

The Shittiest DJ

So yeah, the vet prom. In all a good time. I looked smashing, felt smashing though there was no one and I mean NO ONE to hit on... vet school is 80% women, and we are after all pretty much in Worcester; what is there in Worcester that has both a pulse and a brain and is male? Not much. So I looked smashing and had no where to focus my energy. That just means trouble. I mean, if I haven't got something to do I will find something to do and that usually involves saying something, anything, to stir things up. See, I am one of those people that has had to learn the meaning of think before you speak. Most people have a little pit stop that their thoughts come to just before they tumble out of their mouths; well I was born with Over The Line syndrome, and I can't help it. Makes me welcome at most parties though.
So there we were, all dressed up nicely, and the DJ is playing some background noise jazz. The kind you hear in elevators and dentist offices. Which, since we are waiting to eat, is not a bad thing; just something to fill in the background. So he announces in that overly fake announcer voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please take your seats so that we can begin sending tables to the buffet."

Fine. I was starving, that suited me just fine.

So what does he proceed to do? Play that fucking song that every goddam wedding DJ plays, that stupid Foggerty song about "put me in coach, I'm ready to play... centerfield" whatever. Fucking hate it, there are DJs out there that hire out at weddings and they ALL PLAY THAT FUCKING SONG!!! That and that stupid song from Risky Business? UGH!!!

So I glowered and complained and one of my friends said, "Well, why don't you go tell him that?"

Of course!!!

So I sashayed over there, dimpled at him and said,
"I don't want to be insulting, but you did just announce that we should be seated for dinner and well, this just doesn't inspire us to do so. Also, no one likes this song. No one. Every time I go to a wedding and a DJ puts this stupid song on, we all collectively groan. No one likes it at all. Never play this again."
He just nodded and said, "ok, ok, ok" to everything and quickly put the horrible porn movie elevator jazz on.
Whew!

So later in the night we were all high on chocolate cake and booze and wanted to shake down. So he put on the usual droll selections and then began to do this horrible medley thing, where you take 10 seconds of all the old time favorites and try to blend them... but it is a miserable failure! It sucked so badly but we did our best, and luckily someone else complained. FAHK! Why must every fucking hired DJ suck and play stupid shit notoriously? We were all drunk enough to dance to whatever but I wanted to go over and hit him he sucked so bad. I feel it particularly endemic of Worcester, and I hope that when my class goes to hire a DJ we get a real one from Boston.

Hey DJ you're a fahkin fahk!

study insanity

Waiting for my favorite study buddy to come on by, thought I would give this blog thing a whirl... I am a little hung over, my amazing porn star makeup still on. Yeah, they have come out with 16 hour makeup now, but what this means is that if you pass out with it on you wake up with it on... lipstick and all... who wouldn't feel like a movie star with full makeup, no flaws, right when you get out of bed? Awww crap, my damn head hurts but hey! I still look pretty!
Ugh. I got ready at A's house last night and left my makeup remover on, so while I look pretty I am trying to get down to the serious business of studying and yet, I look like I am trying to pick up a date. Hilarious. Sweatpants, sweatshirt, mussed up hair yet my face is perfect. I feel like one of those freaks that come to the gym with makeup on. Who do they think they are kidding? Who gives a rats ass about you when you are grunting and sweating on a treadmill, why do you need to paste on six tons of makeup? Sheesh.
So today is study day for immunology. Good thing I like it, most of the things we study will go in one ear and out the other; all the upper classwomen (hey vet school is 80% women) say, awww, you won't need that, you'll forget that... why the hell am I cramming it in my head then???
So, fuck it. I am gonna study my goddamn immunology with all my makeup on and kick ass anyways.
When I am not so hung over and grouchy I think I will write out some of the amusing shit that happens to all of us here at vet school. It's like highschool all over again... in fact the reason I have all this makeup on to begin with is because we had a PROM last night. That's right, a prom. Sheesh. I decided to go non traditional and wore my japanese silk dress, bright red, smashing! I felt fabulous, and being newly single, so psyched to doll all up dressed to kill, in my new Tango high heels... get there and remember, oh yeah. There's about 20 guys. And they are all like brothers to me. (And most are taken anyways.) Hit on the Brazilian bus boy? Sigh. Nope... another dud.
So I'm off like a prom dress... till next time.