assault at the gas pump

pumping gas this morning. i've got on a above-knee pink eyelet skirt that is very "pretty" and "cute" and "girly." i never wear it without black boots. that's totally mandatory. since it's summer, i can't wear my tall black boots, or my medium-tall black boots, or even my slightly-above-ankle black boots – so this morning the ankle-high stomper boots were the choice. they're so tough (Frye), plus the memory of 382 rock concerts is impressed into their "sole." when i first started wearing them, i had to grow new muscles on the fronts on my shins. the soreness was unreal. i guess each one weighs a couple pounds because the 2.5" heel is solid wood and the leather is thick. quality shoes, great tool.

with the "too pretty" pink eyelet skirt was a white tshirt, short black cardigan, and heavy black belt with a silver buckle slung low on my waist. a coordinating silver cuff bracelet to bounce off my thick silver hoop earrings and the belt buckle told the rest of the story. it's all incredibly balanced. this outfit is pure HCL, which should always be one's goal if maximum sexiness is what they're looking for, or even maximum interest.

i finish pumping gas, return the phone to it's receiver ($4.69/gal for the low grade!), and turn around just in time to hear a short, messy-haired, dirty tshirt-and-jeans-wearing construction dude with a truck yell loudly as he passed me by, "NICE SKIRT! NICE TOP! HORRIBLE SHOES!...JUST THOUGHT I'D SHARE THAT WITH YOU." i'm such a dummy sometimes, i laughed and said, THANKS! and smiled. he was already gone then. and i'm glad he didn't see my smile.

slowly over the course of the day, it has occured to me exactly what a fuckhead thing that is to say to a woman. yeah, especially to a woman. thoughts of sexist high-heel female expectations have been steeping in my coconut ever since. the fury builds. what a fucking motherfucker! what a lousy piece of shit sad excuse for a man who gives men a bad name! why walk around yelling random criticisms at women about their outfits? in the morning? while they're pumping their own gas? something that should maybe be a stupid, dirty man's job?

my grandmama taught me to refrain from ugliness, but i have these thoughts anyway:

"Oh really, dirty man? will you please teach me about fashion?"

"obviously you know nothing about sexy."

"my horrible shoes are way effective at kicking ugly asses."

or the uncreative, but always effective, "FUCK YOU til the cows come home you rude, idiotic cunt."



ps. hey D, check out how great your fuschia is coming along this season!