Saturday, January 29, 2005

I can't lie

I showed my junk bucket to the tow truck guy who came by to give it a jump. As he's revving the engine and checking out under the hood, he oh so subtly changes the subject by asking, "Why doesn't your boyfriend want it?"


I know enough by now to know that the random segue into inquiries about the boyfriend is super secret boy code for "I Want To See Your Tits."

Do you want to buy the car or not? He left soon after I stopped answering any and all personal questions but called 10 minutes later to ask about the car again. Upon his return, he and his multitude of towing buddies were treated to witty banter with Tamara. They asked her for vodka, made a weird reference to strippers, and it basically turned into a block party where everyone had a chance to peel out down the street in my 1992 Prelude.

That's it.

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