Yesterday, as I was jogging across the parking lot to WalMart (yes, I sold my soul to the devil and went. I didn't want to, but I knew they had the Caesar salad dressing with asiago cheese that I really like and can't find anywhere else, so I went. Bite me if you don't like it) I had a brief but interesting conversation with a Short Fat Balding Black Dude in urine stained sweat pants and a dirty Rams hoodie:
SFBBD: Hey! How YOU doin'?
Me (looking behind me to see if there's someone behind me): Errr...okay, thanks.
SFBBD: When you gonna invite me to dinner? Invite me to dinner sometime!
Me (confused): Err.....I'm kinda busy, but.....
SFBBD: It's Alex! I'm Alex! Don't forget!
Me: Umm...sure, I'll try not to.....
SFBBD: Yeah! Later! *waves with both hands, walking backwards so he can keep looking at me*
Me: Umm....okay, then. Yeah dude, see ya later.....*under my breath* not fucking likely, matey. Not if I can help it.
Urbaner: D'you know that guy?
Me: No! I have no fucking clue who that dude is....
U: Man, he LIKES you! YOU got yourself a new friend! Aww!
Me: shut the fuck up before I kick you.....
Why is it always the freaks and drunks who hit on me? Why can't I get hit on by a sane, nice guy for once?
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