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On Class

August 24, 2006

And a lack thereof. See, today I saw one of those penultimate acts of declassé that you only ever hear about in stories. In this case, my stories.

Staring on an obscure tack – I check out girls. It’s kinda hardwired into me. Just like every other guy in the world. I like to think that, unless I choose otherwise, I do it more subtly and with more class than many. Mike checks out the gals too. Far less class. So little, in fact, that it sometime makes me mildly uncomfotable, but… I can deal.

Even he doesn’t blatantly stare.

That Bloke in his pretentious rich-man-with-a-little-penis car, however, had no such restraint. I was standing in front of the shop. Matt & Mike were inside, dealing witha subcontractor, and I was off on my own. After all, they didn’t need me. I was, I confess, watching the pretty girl from the store across the street as she waited to cross back from our side to her store. As she waited, the Bloke up in his silver benz, and stared at her. Not even a you’re-pretty-and-I- appreciate-that stare – no. A full, ugly, chauvanistic you’re-hot- and-I’m-undressing-and-screwing-you-in-my-imagination stare. I was uncomfortable for her. Then, he peaked. When I thought he’d found the tip-top of possible grossity, he leered (even more) at her, and licked his lips. I goddamned shuddered, seeing that directed at someone else. If it was me, I woulda thrown shit at him. Or vomited. Not quite sure which. I’ve been unable to cleanse my mind ever since.

My Opinion: That’s fucking gross. Never do that to a woman again. You’d made eye contact, expressed your interest. Leave it at that. She’ll cue you if theres more she wants.

…She didn’t? Well, you idiot, stop there. There’s nothing more you can do to get what you’d hoped for.

Being a goatlovin’ deviant of a pervo and creeping out every poor sod who could see you just made you look like a gross old prick. …Shoulda quit while you were ahead. Without the gross-ness, the car might’ve kinda impressed me. It had far more class than you.

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