I attract assholes.

On more than one occasion in very recent past weeks I have attracted douche bags on my outings in the city. I don't know why this would be, considering I've taken to scowling on a constant basis and apparently don't look very friendly (according to my friends--thank you very much). This particular night had previously been a school day, and on school days, I wake up, brush my teeth, throw some jeans on and I'm out the door. That's right-- no change of shirt, no shower (which equals dirty hair), no new make up and occasionally, no undies. This is my Monday, Wednesday, Friday routine. So, when Kiss and I ended up at 111 Minna on a Wednesday night, I can guarantee you that I looked like trash...but I must wear it well because as soon as I got my beer and sat down some idiot came up to me with his cup out in a "cheers" gesture. I don't even know where he came from. Rarely do I notice the men in Minna because I'm usually focused on the art, which was what I was trying to enjoy when the idiot came up.

This man was not at all my "type", and even though I barely know what my "type" is, he definitely was not it. As soon as he sat down he did not stop talking about his "rough" Buddhist upbringing and how his overt confidence sometimes makes people uncomfortable--Gee, go figure! I didn't even have to actually pay attention; but I did listen enough to know that he was an actor, a psychology major and annoying as fuck. The rest of the conversation consisted of me throwing in a "Hm", "Yeah" and "Oh". If he happened to ask me a question, I just pretended like I couldn't hear well and had him repeat (the music was pretty loud, so I easily got away with it).

I guess he took my short answers and stink faces in his direction as a sign of silent genius and decided that I was a psychological case that needed to be cracked because he then proceeded to psychoanalyze me. He proceeded to make me feel as if I had no artistic outlet, ("You have a blog, ha, who doesn't!?) and apparently I "sandbag myself". So, I'm lazy and worthless, but hey! I am sexy! Which is what he told me next...at a bar (slash art gallery), how cliché, I mean creative! And this coming from an "actor". Someone, please give this man an Oscar. It took every ounce of willpower to not tell him about my Wednesday morning regiment, and to reveal just how "sexy" I truly am. If only...

So he kept blabbing, blabbing, blabbing and not actually listening to my answers to his questions (some psychologist), while I tried desparately to think of an exit plan, getting zero help from my friends (whom I kept giving the "HELP!" look to, to no avail). I finally decided that I was going to go check out the art in the adjacent room in Minna and Kiss said she would come along. Thank you sweet, baby Jesus!

As I was about to escape, the idiot asked for my phone number! Are you kidding me? Did I seriously seem remotely interested? Is this some sort of JOKE?! I, of course gave him a fake number. What else could I do? He apparently thought I was interested? Ugh.

I guess I need to develope a stinky attitude to go with my infamous stink eye, 'cause the eye alone just isn't cutting it.


A.Rosie posie puddin' pie, kissed the boys and made them cry.