Friday, September 16, 2011

Don't Knock My Boots, Pardner...

"Would you mind taking my picture with these lovely ladies here," said Dirty Old Man.

He handed ME the camera!!! Can you BELIEVE this BLEEPIN' BLOOP?!

"Sure," I said too brightly through gritted teeth.  He handed ME his camera and posed with two tiny blonde 20-something girls clad in cowboy boots and little else.

Dirty Old Man stood betwixt said blondes and put his arms around them.  They smiled stupidly. I threw up on their behalf and took the picture halfheartedly. I then returned the camera to Nasty Smelly Old Man With Pock Marked Face And A Comb-Over.

He looked at the picture with a greedy grin.

"Can you take another one?" He smiled in my general direction.  "I really need to get those boots in the shot."

GROSS!!!!  WHAT IS HE GONNA DO WITH THAT PICTURE LATER???  I refuse to think on it.

"Of course," I said.  Then I kneed him in his junk real hard and snapped the pic.

I don't UNDERSTAND!  I just don't see what THOSE girls had that I DIDN'T?  Why didn't Filthy Decrepit Male Man want to be photographed with ME and MY boots?!  HUH?!

Is it because I'm not just over the legal drinking age?? Is it because I wasn't smiling blankly??  Is it because Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dead-Behind-The-Eyes are blond and can't form full, intelligible sentences? (Disclaimer:  I don't think all blondes are dumb.  Just the two in question at the moment.  There are many gorgeous, smart blondes.  I can't think of any at the moment.  But I'm sure they exist.  I'm just kidding, of course...)

Let's continue...

Is it because my bottom cheeks weren't hanging out of my shorts??? Is it because I am old and lame enough to say things like "bottom cheeks"?!


But am I jealous?


I mean, no.  I don't ALWAYS have to be the center of attention for Pete's sake!  (That's a lie.)

I spent the day yesterday at the Tucson Realtor Expo Thingy dressed in my cowgirl best.  YEEE HAWWW!

I helped my parents run the booth for our family business, Golden Star Properties.  (The aforementioned blondes ran the booth directly across from me. I got to watch men fall all over themselves all the day long.  I'm not sure what those girls were selling but I believe it was Their Dignity... and at a very reasonable price, I might add.)

All the booths were meant to have a Western Theme.  People went all out.  One woman even dressed in a curly blonde wig and enormous fake bosoms and sang Dolly Pardon songs all day.

My parents are not silly people.  They are dignified, hard working, salt of the Earth type folks.  They would not be caught dead acting the fool for any reason.

So they made me dress up.  I was the family mascot.  I stood in front of our booth saying things like,

"Why don't you folks mosey on over here and I'll tell ya how you can make a heap of cash!"


"Howdy there, ya'll!  Have I got some news for you!"


"Well. hello, Cowboy!  That's a might pretty filly you got on your arm!"

Then I would proceed to  hand them a flyer and tell them how they could make 4% of the gross on a custom home if they referred the clients that decided against an existing home to us.


I don't know what this guy was selling but he sure is animated, ain't he?  I was the female version of this here dude.

After the day was done I went home feeling the sting of being ignored in the face of Teeny Weeny Blondie Daisy Duke Wearin' Midriff Barin' Boneheads.  My ego was severely bruised.

I felt better when my Own Personal Dirty Old Man whistled and carried on about MY boots.  He even took a picture without my suggesting it first!!  What a sweetie poo!

I'm so pleased he liked my boots.  I may let him knock 'em later. ;)