Car Guys

 

 

I’ve had a couple of recent visits to the auto shop. I’m not happy about this, as I don’t particularly enjoy when things break. I was raised by depression-era great-grandparents: I expect stuff to last forever. But things do indeed break and sometimes we just have to give in and deal with it. Hence, my recent auto shop stints.

 

Both times I was at the shop, strange dudes followed me around the waiting area. I wasn’t afraid. I was annoyed. I had planned ahead for my wait and was trying to read, dang it! Those dudes were either talking – loudly – on their phones or wearing super-too-much cologne.

 

Let me say something on this point. When a person doesn’t manage to bathe, slathering on copious amounts of cologne or perfume is NOT an acceptable alternative. Stinking is stinking, no matter if it’s due to spendy waters or cheap dirt. End of sermon.

 

Anyhoo, the car guys at the auto shop finally got the message. After I moved several times to get away from them. And again, they weren’t scary or anything. They were just annoying. I’m just hoping the old horseless carriage keeps rolling a while longer. I can only take so many car guys.

Seriously, Dude?

 

 

I don’t get hit on by guys. That’s just a fact, and honestly, I’m okay with it.

 

But once in a great while, some dude will say something to me, thinking he’s being smooth and hoping to elicit a response. Since I haven’t blushed in eons, I’m gonna state, for the record, those dudes usually miss the mark.

 

The other morning, Mister and I were donating some things to a local charity. When the guys driving the truck got out, one of them headed over to where I was, in full swagger mode. (That alone was funny, y’all.) And then he looked at me sideways and said, “Oh, no! Nobody told us we’d be seeing Kim Kardashian’s older sister!”

 

I’ve never watched any show featuring a “Kardashian,” and I daresay I never will. But as that family is determined to get their faces on everything on the planet, I am aware of their existence. A fan? No. Not even a little bit.

 

So when this dude pulled out his moves on me, I couldn’t speak for a few seconds. I mean, seriously, dude? I wondered if I was being filmed or something. I just don’t think of myself as appearing to be the type to enjoy being compared to a Kardashian. And I certainly don’t think I’m the type to relish being referred to as anyone’s “older” anything.

 

After a few seconds, I skipped over what the dude had said and moved on to the donated items. I would have helped load it all onto the truck, but, you know, older Kardashians don’t be helping load stuff. Duh.