I kind of like being the "How Did You End Up Here?" (emphasis usually on the 'here' and occasionally the 'you') girl. Though my replies are not terribly inspired: "Umm. I dunno. The internet?" Or: "Umm. I like goats," the questioner never listens to them anyway. They either look hard at the breasts tattooed on my arm* and buy some cheese, or they look hard at the breasts tattooed on my arm** and do not buy some cheese.
A boy tried to hit on me the other day. He said he was "quite taken with me." OOOooooOOOooh. I told him I work on a goat farm. He replied: "I love goats!"
I was not impressed.
Reminiscence: When I Was Impressed, by tara louise.
When the gecko that lives in my trailer walked across the key pad of my laptop, and managed to spell: "pih." Apparently he was not impressed.
*for those of you who do not know me very well, the 'breasts' are not out of context. The tattoo is not just breasts on my arm. They are part of a larger tattoo. Yes, it is of a woman. Yes, she is naked. No, she is not me.
**these are the same breasts.
Friday, September 12, 2008
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2 comments:
That is the best book I've ever read about being impressed. "pih."
I'm going to throw that one around when I myself am unimpressed.
hmmm...you talk about the breasts like it wouldn't be cool to have a giant tattoo of -just- boobs... and i totally agree, have always agreed in fact.
*scratches off "get big tattoo of boobs" from her to-do list*
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