Warning: Cougars on the prowl in Boston
Today is dead at work. Dead as hell. I've been here since 10:00 am and it's now 2:00 pm and I still haven't logged into the system required to do actual work work. Ironically, as I start this second post of the day, my first bit of work just came in. It won't be more than five minutes' worth though. Boredom conquers all.
About an hour ago I got up to go to lunch. Then on my way out I remembered that I had leftover pasta in the fridge and there was no need to leave the building. Fuck that. Being in here for 8 hours straight without seeing the outside makes my soul turn into a wrinkled sac of sorrow, so I went outside to walk aimlessly for more time than my boss would allow.
I strolled passed my motorcycle to make sure those ass-sucking jackals we call meter maids didn't give me some bullshit ticket having to do with a hydrant or a crosswalk or something.
I made my way over to Faneuil Hall shops to check out one of the many magazine stores that I frequent in the area.
I was thumbing through some dude magazine guaranteed to make your life better, your abs harder, your money more plentifuller, when I heard the guy behind the counter chatting with one of his regulars.
His name is Costas and his customer, a woman, had a smokey voice.
Costas: How about this guy?
Woman: Yeah he might do. Ah. But no. He's got a ring. All the good ones have rings. Hell, I'll even take a bad one at this point.
That's when I turned and splayed my fingers on my left hand...
Me: No ring here, sweetheart.
Woman: There we go! He... ooh and he's even nice to look at.
(then she looked me up and down for a second and it got strange)
Woman: You have a tool box?
Me: A tool b... well.. yeah but...
Woman: Perfect. You know I love them tall.
Costas: He's very tall.
Woman: Would you look at him? How old are you, honey?
Me: 26.
(She looks at Costas over her glasses)
Woman: Perfect. Half my age. And you don't have a problem with older women?
Me: Oh no. There's no age limit.
Woman: We should really get coffee some time.
I then noticed that she was halfway through a BOOK of scratch tickets. She had bought a ridiculous amount of them and wasn't winning a damn thing.
Woman: Well, bad thing is he's not bringing me luck. I need to win so I can take him on a nice harbor cruise.
I told her good luck and said I'll be around when she hits on one of those tickets.
Her name is Monica. Monica's a Cougar.
And there ain't nothing wrong with that.
I should specify, the first definition is pretty harsh and is not always the case, nor was it the case in this situation. Think definition #2.
About an hour ago I got up to go to lunch. Then on my way out I remembered that I had leftover pasta in the fridge and there was no need to leave the building. Fuck that. Being in here for 8 hours straight without seeing the outside makes my soul turn into a wrinkled sac of sorrow, so I went outside to walk aimlessly for more time than my boss would allow.
I strolled passed my motorcycle to make sure those ass-sucking jackals we call meter maids didn't give me some bullshit ticket having to do with a hydrant or a crosswalk or something.
I made my way over to Faneuil Hall shops to check out one of the many magazine stores that I frequent in the area.
I was thumbing through some dude magazine guaranteed to make your life better, your abs harder, your money more plentifuller, when I heard the guy behind the counter chatting with one of his regulars.
His name is Costas and his customer, a woman, had a smokey voice.
Costas: How about this guy?
Woman: Yeah he might do. Ah. But no. He's got a ring. All the good ones have rings. Hell, I'll even take a bad one at this point.
That's when I turned and splayed my fingers on my left hand...
Me: No ring here, sweetheart.
Woman: There we go! He... ooh and he's even nice to look at.
(then she looked me up and down for a second and it got strange)
Woman: You have a tool box?
Me: A tool b... well.. yeah but...
Woman: Perfect. You know I love them tall.
Costas: He's very tall.
Woman: Would you look at him? How old are you, honey?
Me: 26.
(She looks at Costas over her glasses)
Woman: Perfect. Half my age. And you don't have a problem with older women?
Me: Oh no. There's no age limit.
Woman: We should really get coffee some time.
I then noticed that she was halfway through a BOOK of scratch tickets. She had bought a ridiculous amount of them and wasn't winning a damn thing.
Woman: Well, bad thing is he's not bringing me luck. I need to win so I can take him on a nice harbor cruise.
I told her good luck and said I'll be around when she hits on one of those tickets.
Her name is Monica. Monica's a Cougar.
And there ain't nothing wrong with that.
I should specify, the first definition is pretty harsh and is not always the case, nor was it the case in this situation. Think definition #2.
posted by Hooker at 2:04 PM
4 Comments:
Remember that blonde lady at that biker bar in Illinois that said she had 2 kids? One of which was like 16? She was all about it.
Hey Hooker, if you ever want a Sugar Mama, like that lady seemed to be, check out this website: http://www.seekingarrangement.com.
How funny is that?!
Oh god, tacky. she smelled so good. That was the only good thing about that tour.
stacey, that site is what I'm talking about. I want to be a kept man. unfortunately there are no sugar mamas in MA listed on that site.
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