Pimptasticness and/or lameness

This isn’t a real post.

Well, it kinda is. But it kinda isn’t.

Actually, this is a photo follow-up to one of the final posts on my now abandoned MySpace blog. I have the photos on Facebook, not on MySpace, but some of my MySpace friends still refuse to go FB. So this is mainly for them.

If you’re not them, it’s okay; it’s for you, too.

(I would’ve imported the 100+ posts from that rusty old MySpace blog here, but apparently you can’t do that. I am, however, thinking about bringing over [ie: copying and pasting in] some of my MySpace Classics from time to time, but I’m not sure yet…)

First, for those who never saw the original post, I’ve taken the liberty of providing its contents here. The photo follow-up afterward…

***

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Snap, crackle, pop!
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping

Yo, so check it out…

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not really Mr. Fashion or anything like that. You know I’m usually rockin’ some cargo pants and maybe like a button-up Dickies work shirt or something like that.

Sometimes I think if I really wanted to, I could dress pretty pimptastically. Usually my goal, though, is just not to look like a slob or completely unpresentable. Plus, it can be pretty expensive to dress nice, and spending a ton of money on clothes ain’t my thing.

But a stroll through JC Penney last weekend made me realize what could be:

Behold: The White Linen Suit!

Awwww yeeeeeeee-uhhh! A white linen suit, son! Complete with with the drawstring pants — no beltloops! I know the picture’s not that great, but trust me — it was a sight to behold. Okay, maybe not. But it looked awesomely zany enough for me.

If I had money to burn, you better believe I woulda walked out the store wearing that, although probably with a different color shirt. And don’t think I didn’t go find a pair of gold-rimmed, white-tinted sunglasses that would’ve completely taken it over the top.

Even on sale — the suit, a shirt, the sunglasses, and some of those woven loafer shoes (which I was told was what would go with it) — I thought it was a little steep. All totaled, my phone calculator told me it came out to about $175 before tax. I don’t know if that’s a lot or not; however, it was certainly too much for me to spend on a suit I thought was awesome, but would probably wear like once or twice ever.

Seriously, when am I gonna wear a white linen suit?

It’s not like I go to the club or anything; girls would probably laugh me out of the place if I came in like that anyway. And it probably wouldn’t be wise to stroll into a job interview lookin’ like I came straight from the 35th Annual Conference of South American Drug Lords.

Someday maybe I’ll have a reason to go buy me a white linen suit. Right now, though, I can’t think of any.

8:15 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

BRILLIANT! I guess it kind of depends what sort of job you’re interviewing for.

Posted by Lu on Mar 13, 2008 10:35 AM

$175 is a bit much. Adam got a suit for $95 recently at Penny’s on clearance. Actually, sales at Penny’s are not really sales. They always have a sale. You gotta look for the clearance. If you wait about 3 or 4 months, I almost guarantee you that suit will be ready for you to purchase it at a much lower price.

Posted by Brittany on Mar 14, 2008 10:47 AM

***

Now the photo follow-up I promised: I went back to JC Penney just over a month later and happened to find the suit still on display (presumably because it’s so lame awesome no one but myself has any interest in it…).

So what did I do?

No, I didn’t buy it.

But — laugh if you will – you can best believe I tried that motherlover on, and — naturally – I got some photos to document the occasion:

Josh, the White Linen Suit, and brown sunglasses...

Josh, the White Linen Suit, and gold-rimmed sunglasses...

One last quick shot in the dressing room...

The photo-op was pretty spur-of-the-moment. If I’d have known I was gonna end up at JC Penney again, and had I known the suit was still there, I’d have done things a little differently:

- I’d have brought a real camera
- I’d have shaved off the facial scruff
- I’d have posed facing the opposite angle so you couldn’t see the price stickers on the sunglasses
- I wouldn’t have worn the black shirt underneath or my trademark black socks

In any case, if they’d have had the items featured in these pictures in a smaller size and for less cost (even though the price was down slightly from the first time I was there), I might have been tempted to buy them.

And that, of course, would have immediately increased my level of pimptasticness at least threefold.

This is what goes on in my brain

Y’know, I’ve been thinking about the priorities I’ve set in my pursuit of a suitable Mrs.

Maybe it has been too superficial of me to hold out hope that I’ll wind up with a supermodel who can cook and clean. Hey, a dude can hope, right?

Okay… hold up, hold up… before you get on my case, ladies, plenty of you out there are seeking some sort of magical Prince Charming to come swoop you up on a white horse or some garbage along those lines.

We’ve all been fed nonsense!

That’s why I’m switching up the game.

I’m going for sheer practicality.

One of my previous hopes/rules has been not to pursue women taller than me. The problem with that is I’m only 5′ 8″. Yeah, sucks for me.

(I believe my height may play a minor role in why I’m still out there seeking a Mrs. Part of girls’ superficialness I’ve noticed is in wanting super-tall dudes. Heck, there plenty of girls out there who are like 5′ 3″ or shorter and are holding out for dudes who are 6′ 1″ or taller. C’mon now. Get real.)

Now in my new pursuit of practicality, I’m thinkin’ ladies need to be somewhere around the 5′ 7″ to 5′ 10″ range (I will go taller than me, but I had to put a cap on it… I can’t look like a kid next to my woman; that’s just weird).

Also — and this is a must — the woman must come from an athletic background, or have been an athlete herself.

Here’s the deal, potential Mrses: our children will grow up to be professional athletes. That’s the whole point of this. Cha-ching! Early retirement for the both of us!

See, I may not be so tall, but there is tallness in my family. My dad’s 6′ 2″, but everyone on my mom’s side of the family has been kinda short. The men haven’t grown much taller than 5′ 7″/5′ 8″.

Additionally, I’ve always been a pretty quick runner. And that comes from both sides of the family — my dad was a fast runner back in the day and so were my mom’s brothers. I’m also pretty coordinated, have pretty good physical dexterity, and have a good sense of physical/spatial awareness. And I can do the robot.

So the way I figure it, I just need to get some more tallness and extra natural athleticism in there and — boom! — somewhere around 18 to 22 years from now (depending on the sport our child excels in) we’ll be able to chill.

Oh, and maybe we can love each other, too. I mean, that’d probably be good, right?

Times are hard. Go save money.

Hi, I’m Josh, former professional writer[1] extraordinaire[2].

Now, if you’re like me and rising fuel prices, rising grocery prices, the overall sluggish economy, student loan debt, and that nasty crack habit[3][4] you picked up back around the time you were forced to drop out of college[5] have been taking a hit on your pocketbook, you might be wise to do like I’ve done and start using coupons[6].

That’s right: coupons.

You may be saying to yourself, “Oh, I don’t wanna use coupons! I’ll have to sit around all day scouring the ads in my local newspaper just to find them, then clip them, organize them, and then force myself to remember to use them!”[7]

But the truth of the matter is that coupons may one day save your life[8].

You may or may not already use coupons. Maybe you’re a casual coupon user. Or maybe you’re an obsessed coupon junkie.

In either case, one thing is for certain: you are about to have the opportunity to blessed with the potential to take your coupon-induced savings to the next level.

How, you ask?

By reading Mrs. Coupon Lady’s blog.

I’m not endorsing Mrs. Coupon Lady simply because I do, in fact, know her in real life — she’s the wife a close, personal friend of mine — but I’m also endorsing Mrs. Coupon Lady because I’ve seen the results of when she works her magic.

I’ve seen the receipts, people!

She will save you money! SAVE YOU MONEY! MONEEEYYY!!!

On a visit down south this past spring, I was staying at the house of Mrs. Coupon Lady and her husband, my close personal friend (Mr. Coupon Man??? Ehh… more like Mr. St. Louis Cardinals Fan Man. Rick Ankiel what! Albert Pujols what!).

One evening, I was returning to the house of MCL and MSLCFM from being out and about around the same time they were returning home.

As it happened, they had gone to the grocery store earlier that evening. MSLCFM told me that MCL’s couponability[9] had reduced their grocery bill from somewhere around $32 to, like, just over $1. That’s not a typo. I’ve just checked it like five times. Don’t think I meant to write something like $10 or $11. No: just over $1.

MCL went and grabbed the receipt.

Sure enough. They pretty much spent nothing more than the cost of gas to the store and back on their groceries.

And she does this all the time.

You may not have the time or knack for couponing like Mrs. Coupon Lady. But if you have the desire to save money, whatever you lack in natural couponability, she will help you save money.

***

In seriousness, that story’s not a lie. And Mrs. Coupon Lady is a pretty cool lady. And she brews a mean sweet tea. Be sure to check out her blog as she gets it up and running. It used to be an email newsletter, but now she’s going big-time. Aside from clicking the links in this post, her link can now be found in my “tha blog pound” section.

***

[1] - Unemployed journalist
[2] - That’s an overstatement
[3] - My lawyers tell me I should tell you not to smoke crack, or do any drugs
[4] - I’ve never actually smoked crack
[5] - I didn’t drop out of college, although I did almost fail a gen-ed once
[6] - My couponing skills are limited mainly to using the Hot Pocket coupons attached to nearly every box of Hot Pockets and the Best Buy coupons I get because I’m a Reward Zone member (it’s free… save 10 - 12 percent easy!)
[7] - This may or may not be true
[8] - This is a fact
[9] - If this isn’t a word, it is now, and it describes Mrs. Coupon Lady

Drink more water

This probably takes more explanation than it’s worth, but here we go…

Gotta stay hydrated!

See all that water?

Two 24-packs of Dasani and 17 additional gallons of water being held in four three-gallon water jugs and one five-gallon water jug (two of the three-gallon jugs are hidden in the back).

Well, last night I was pushing all that around at the store in a shopping cart prior to it landing here in the back of Momz’ car.

(I don’t know if this is common anywhere else in the country, but you need to know that up around these parts, stores such as those of the local grocery variety, as well as Wal-Mart, Meijer[*], and the like, have reverse osmosis water filtration system dispenser stations in place within the store to provide people an alternative to awful tap water, door-to-door water delivery services, or things like, well, Dasani.)

I was tagging along with Momz at Meijer while she did some grocery shopping. I was essentially on hand to fill the jugs, put them in the cart, push the heavy water jug cart around the store, move the water from the cart to the car, and then from the car to the house.

The 24-packs of Dasani happened to be on sale as well, and since those individual bottles are good for when you wanna take your water mobile, of course, I was directed to grab a couple packs.

After I had filled the water jugs and placed them into the cart, and after I had placed the two 24-packs of said Dasani onto the bottom of the cart, I felt the need to go to the electronics section to check on the availabilty of Guitar Hero III (with guitar).

It was available, as it turns out. I didn’t get it, though.

However, as I made my way over there, I struggled at one point to get the water-heavy cart to maneuver through tight turns of an under-construction section of the store directly between the grocery area and the electronics area when a Meijer employee stocking something or other glanced my way.

He glanced back away before then doing a double-take.

Meijer dude: “Geez, that’s a lot of water…”

Me: “Yeah, I know… I’m preparing for Y2K.”

Of all the responses swirling around in my head, the Y2K one was the one that popped out my mouth? I had to do all I could not to crack up after I said it.

It took the dude a moment, but after a confused look and a turn-away to get back to work, he got it. He shook his head as he laughed, but he got it.

Then I cracked up.

There’s nothing quite like laughing at your own jokes. Especially when they’re 8-years-old.

[*] For the non-midwesterners out there, Meijer is essentially the same store as Wal-Mart, except it spans only five of these here United States, instead of being a globally invasive corporate evil)

Hot

Sometimes I’ll be out at the store or somewhere else and I’ll see a woman so attractive I feel as though I would be doing her aesthetic appeal — and, really, humanity in general — a disservice if I didn’t just walk up to her and say something along the lines of, “Excuse me, but you’re pretty hot. That’s all. Have a nice day.”

And then walk away.

But I don’t.

You see, I appreciate the hotness, but I don’t wanna be that guy.

Well, unless it’d get me some dates.

But if it did, would I really wanna date a woman who responds to that kind of approach?

Hmmm…

This I must ponder further.

John Mayer should have a TV show

I recently decided Neil Patrick Harris should have TV show where he plays the ficticious version of himself seen in the Harold and Kumar movies and his new Old Spice commercials.

Well, this got me to thinking. And while I was thinking, what occurred to me was that John Mayer should have a TV show.

Why?

Because he did have one once, and it was awesome.

And by once, I mean just that: once.

“John Mayer Has a TV Show” was a one-episode blast of dry comedic genius all up in your face. If you happened to catch it, that is. VH1 aired it in, like, late 2004/early 2005 not much more than a handful of times, if I recall correctly.

Aside from maybe a song or two, I could give a rip about his music. However, I always thought John Mayer was pretty funny in the Chappelle’s Show sketch he appeared in, even though he was really just kinda in the background. As it turns out, John Mayer’s actually kind of a pretty hilarious dude.

The evidence?

Here (be sure to watch both parts):

Also, this behind-the-scenes bit with Kanye West was fairly entertaining…

This guy needs a TV show. Again.

Neil Patrick Harris as Neil Patrick Harris

Dude, someone needs to give Neil Patrick Harris his own TV show.

I know he’s already on that How I Met Your Mother show (blah, blah, blah) and he was in that Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog (eh… some people really love this; it’s not my thing…).

What I want to see is something more like his role in the Harold and Kumar movies and/or his Old Spice commercial. Y’know… Neil Patrick Harris playing a fictionalized version of himself (the reason that in the H&K movies he’s credited as “Neil Patrick Harris as Neil Patrick Harris,” rather than “Neil Patrick Harris as himself”).

Genius.

Hilarious.

Call it “NPH,” “The Neil Patrick Harris Show,” or even “Neil Patrick Harris as Neil Patrick Harris.” I don’t give a crap. This show just needs to get made.

My only hope is that it wouldn’t bomb like the Geico Cavemen show did. I mean, those guys are still funny in commercials (like the new one for ESPN’s fantasy football [I can't find a clip, sorry]). In any case, for Neil Patrick Harris to really do the fake version of himself justice, the show would probably have to be on HBO or Showtime or something.

Or maybe it’d be better as a movie. I don’t know. But someone needs to take action.

“How much for the little girl?”

This past weekend away has me more convinced than ever that entity-ownership of children is a way of life that will never change.

Not only was I forced to sit through seeing Chinese Olympic gymnasts (who all looked no older than 10-years-old and were probably competing using falsifield birth certificates) absolutely dominate their events, but I was also forced to sit through Disney and Nickelodeon programming.

I fully expect an authoritarian communist government to force athletic adults to breed and then remand the children they produce to government custody, only to be placed into Olympic training warehouses before they can even walk.

(It probably happens elsewhere more sneakily, too…)

But I think it’s the consumer community at large who’s at fault for the exploitation of children by these childrens’ networks and other evil geniuses, like the one dude who orchestrated all those boy bands in the ’90s. From the ol’ skool Mickey Mouse Club to contemporary pre-packaged spectacles like Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers, it’s a simple formula:

Find children with an apparent ability to act and/or sing, pay off the parents, essentially take guardianship of the children, enroll the kids in truly useless real-world classes like voice and acting lessons, put them on TV, and give them movies, albums, and concerts.

And, of course, since kids within the general population everywhere don’t know any better than to embrace and get excited about whatever Disney and Nickelodeon are force-feeding them, the potential for success and profit with these pre-packaged stars is pretty high without being too much of a risk. More money and acclaim for the adults pulling the strings!

If this were to stop, which probably won’t happen, parents probably need to reject these child stars and refuse to allow their kids to all but overdose on them.

Punch you in the face!

Alas!

I’ve returned from a visit to good ol’ Cleveland, where I more or less had a good time. Highlights included visiting the aunt of mine who likes to get in my business, my uncle, and my cousins (including my one cousins’ nearly brand-spankin’-new baby); eating good food I normally stay away from; and being away from this most worthless state of Michigan in which I unfortunately reside. Lowlights included watching enough Olympic events to make me wish my head would explode (Minus basketball, I don’t watch the Olympics… I’m a real sports fan — oh, snap! What now!); meeting the 37-year-old, twice-divorced boyfriend of my 23-year-old cousin (this actually wasn’t as bad as I expected, but I still think she can do better); and having to endure arguments between said 23-year-old cousin and another of my cousins, her 12-year-old brother.

In any case, this extended weekend has prompted additions to my “To Punch In The Face” list:

- Gilmore Girls
- ABC Family
- People driving near me whose highway speed fluctuates (to the extent that I pass them and they pass me several times each) while I’m chillin’ in cruise control (especially when my cruise speed happens to be [slightly] over the speed limit)
- The talking VW from those commercials

Those are just additions to a list I’ve been keeping mentally for a while now. And as you can tell, items on the list don’t have to be people for me to want to punch them in the face. But, oh, if they had a face, it’d get punched.

Here’s a taste of some of the founding members of my “To Punch In The Face” list:

- David Archuleta
- Mike Lupica
- Skip Bayless
- Jay Mariotti
- Kenny Williams
- Those Esurance commercials (especially this one)
- The guy in that one Pizza Hut commercial who, in a terribly fake Brooklyn accent, says “Look what I did with my terty minutes now.” (I couldn’t find a clip of it, but I can assure you, I’d give that guy a Tiger Woods’ uppercut right to the jaw)
- Flo from the Progressive Commercials
- America’s Got Talent
- Josh Groban’s music (but not him, as a Jimmy Kimmel skit he was in gave him mad street cred in my book, regardless of whatever you think of the skit)
- Rachael Ray
- Oprah
- The guy in that one Bowflex commercial who says “I gave all my fat clothes to my fat friends.” (I’m nowhere near overweight, and I think that guy’s a Grade-A prick. [Tiger Woods' uppercut x3].)

Sorry if you like that which I would like to punch in the face. I mean, I know Adam and Brittany (if you guys are reading this) like Rachael Ray. My bad; I still can’t deal with her, though it seems she has calmed down a little from what I’d previously seen of her. But a couple of these, I refuse to apologize for — namely Archuleta and all those commercials I mentioned.

More of the list may be revealed in time. Well, maybe if I don’t get punched in the face first. Or, if there’s anything left of me and my blog after Oprah’s minions deliver this entry to her, which will cause her to cast a spell on me with her evil voodoo magic and make several calls to her “people,” who will proceed with the rest of the foot-soldiering in her maniacal plans to shut me down…

Reee-jected!

Updating a story previously reported here first (well, and only here, really, since — well — it’s about me…), I went ahead and asked out the hot bank teller girl who chatted me up and who messed up my check order.

And she totally shut me down.

Apparently she is just really chatty/friendly/flirty and maybe slips up at her job from time to time. As for the rejection, she was really nice about it, if it matters (does it matter?) (she is pretty hot; maybe she has a lot of practice leading dudes on only to let them down nicely?). The official reason given was that she had a boyfriend (more on that later…).

***

I did my best to recall as many of the details about this story as possible, but I was nervous as all get-out so my memory of it may be closer to 90 percent than my usual 99 percent. Plus, I’m tired right now, which may knock it down to about 85 to 87-ish percent. I didn’t get a chance to recount it all earlier while it was fresher, but I have to write this now since I’ll be out of town (again) until mid next week…

***

Okay, so I go into the bank today to bring my checks back and get them re-ordered.

Almost immediately upon walking in to the bank, which was void of customers at the time, the lovely teller lass, Rachel, greets me with a cheerful “Hey, there, how are you?”

She obviously remembered and recognized me, chatting me up a few steps in the door all the way to her counter.

“Oh, I’m good. How about you?”

“I’m good. So did you get those checks?”

“Yeah, but I think I might need new ones; there was a mistake on these…”

I said it with a sort of “Hey, it happens shrug,” as if it weren’t her fault (even though it was). Any annoyance I had with getting a screwed up check order flew out the window when I saw her today. Today she was dressed up way more than the last time I saw her… her attire today put her usual lovely lass-ness way over the top; I pretty much had to force myself to remember what I was even doing there.

I presented the checks to her, pointed out the error, and she went about getting a supervisor to help her get the re-order started.

The supervisor (who was actually the teller lady who had assisted said lovely teller lass Rachel in ordering the checks the previous time I was in) couldn’t remember the initial check order. Lovely teller lass Rachel, explaining the initial order, completely remembered not only the style of check off-hand, but also that the computers at the bank had went down while I was there before.

Her remembering the whole instance off the top of her head had me feeling pretty good about my chances.

So fast forward to the end, when lovely teller lass Rachel came back my way with the paperwork I needed to initial. The bank had filled up by this point, there was a line set back a little from the counter area, and there were people at the counter to my right being helped by a teller there.

But then, the exact moment lovely teller lass Rachel started back my way with the aforementioned paperwork, the adjacent teller motioned the people to my right all the way down the counter area to the far left. It created a sort of public privacy pocket, where if I used the absolute correct indoor voice, I could ask lovely teller lass Rachel out with no one being the wiser.

I had kinda played out in my mind what I’d say, but now that the absolute perfect opportunity opened up, I had to act on it, even if I wasn’t completely ready.

(As a quick aside: Ladies I don’t think some you appreciate how difficult it is for some of us guys to ask you out. Especially if you’re the slightest bit attractive or if we have any sort of interest at all. It’s one of the most nerve-wracking ordeals we can put ourselves through. If you do recognize this fact, please don’t exploit it or take it for granted.)

((I’m not really sure who that’s addressed to, and I’m not sure lovely teller lass Rachel didn’t appreciate it. It’s more just an FYI for everyone. But, for my part, the whole nerve-wracking thing was totally in effect at the moment.))

So, lovely teller lass Rachel, completely leaning in and forward — and even joking with me a little — as she’s explaining the initialing process and as I go ahead and initial the paperwork, takes my paperwork.

Trying to stall and gather my thoughts as much as I could, I asked her for a statement of my transactions for the last month.

Then, as she’s printing that out, something clicked in my mind: my brain realized the mission, knew the clock was ticking down, and just went ahead without me really being ready beyond my lead-in:

“Hey, I was also curious…”

“Yeah?”

(Sort of nonchalantly, as though she were expecting another bank question.)

“…would you wanna go grab lunch or dinner or something sometime?”

(Best I can remember, I hit the perfect indoor voice for the public privacy pocket, my voice wasn’t wobbly, and I wasn’t shaking. Of course, I was devoting pretty much all my energy and brain resources to staying composed as I managed those words, so my teeth may have been chattering and my voice may have cracked like a high school kid for all I can remember. Seriously, though, the words that popped into my head may have sucked, but I think I said them as right as I could.)

Her reaction confused the crap outta me:

“Yeah…?”

It was her tone.

The whole question element of it, which accounted for somewhere around 70 percent of how she said the word, felt like the kind of yeah…? a girl says when you’re in her ear sayin’ stuff and she’s leading you on to keep sayin’ stuff. Kinda like an “Oh, really?” Another 20 percent of it felt like a matter-of-fact “Yeah,” as if to indicate an affirmative on her part. But the last 10 percent of it carried the Bill Lumberg Office Space “Yy-eah…” before he asks you to work Saturday. Even the smallest percentage of the Lumberg “yeah” is too much, and thus not good.

We had both been smiling most of the time we were interacting after she came back with the paperwork. Only my expression broke a little here, because I was perplexed.

A slight grin remained on my face (because I made it stay there), but I raised my eyebrow.

She didn’t break her smile, although it turned a shade flattered-looking. Probably more politely so than disappointedly so.

“I would if I didn’t have a boyfriend.”

(I may have blushed out of embarrassment here; I’m not sure. A second later she added…)

“Thanks.”

I apologized here, but I’m not sure what words I actually used. I think it may have been, “Oh, I’m sorry.” Whatever I said, I tried to convey it in an I-didn’t-know / I-don’t-want-to-step-on-anyone’s-toes sort of way.

Her: “Oh, no. Thanks.”

Still smiling. Both of us.

(I think my smile now was probably sort of mixture between a carryover smile from our interaction, a “Well, I gave it my best shot” smile, and a “Thank you kindly for not destroying me with your rejection” type smile.)

On one hand, she seemed genuinely flattered and didn’t come across like she was blowing me off with the boyfriend thing. But isn’t that what girls do? Dismiss unwanted approaches by saying they have a boyfriend even when they don’t? But then, sometimes might they actually have a boyfriend? Or if girls are interested but do have a boyfriend, will they just ignore that and schedule plans anyway? (I mean, I did go out with an engaged woman before…) Or do most still have integrity? This is part of why this is so nerve-wracking; it can be pretty hard to figure out what’s really going on.

In any case, the whole thing went down in such a way that I don’t think I’d feel embarrassed to go back in and deal with her. Not to ask her out again, of course. Whether she’d be as chatty and friendly as she has is up to how she took this whole thing. We’ll see…

Anyway, she asked if everything was good on my statement. I replied that it was.

Then, as nicely and thankingly as possible, she wished me a good weekend. I thanked her for the gesture, wished her a good weekend as well, and I was on my way.

Oh well.

Rejection sucks. But at least now she’s a girl I did holler at, rather than one I shoulda hollered at.