A-ooow.
This week, I've been borrowing a dear friend's car. It just
happens to be the most fabulous car you've ever laid eyes upon, a bright yellow VW Karmann Ghia convertible. Before getting behind the wheel of this car, there was no way of comprehending the amazing fabulousness super powers it possesses and transfers to it's driver. Even earlier in the week, I've been carpooling and I guess people leave you alone when there's a man in the car. My carpool buddy totally cramps my style, it seems. But this morning, I was on my own. The ghia was
on.
Two moments of note from my drive to work:
The moderately overweight man on the motorcycle passed me, and did a full turn of the head to stare. At least I think he stared... All I could see was massive quantities of back flab hanging down over his waistline as the air picked up the bottom of his t-shirt. Tuck that shit in, please.
The white early-model boat car occupants actually WHISTLING at me as I passed. I really don't remember the last time I was whistled at, but it may have been when I was a bus driver in college. Rather than take upon the battles of hundreds of generations of women to de-objectify themselves, this totally made me feel good. As I exited the freeway, they made that "aow" whoopy noise.
Good times, I say.
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