Monday, December 13, 2004

I just realized that I've been accidentally flirting with some short guy with 70's butt-cut hair.

Ew.

You may be wondering how one would accidentally flirt. Yeah, me, too. It's generally acknowledged that I will flirt with darn near anyone - seriously. It's kind of a hobby (cheaper than collecting Beanie Babies and decidedly less dorky than worshiping Star Trek.) But this particular flirting was absolutely unintentional.

I've mentioned previously that I work in a rather chi chi area, it's a hyper-upscale shopping center (seriously, when was the last time you needed to valet park to go to Barnes & Noble?) and our underground parking garage is wall to wall luxury vehicles (oh, other than is this guy in the accounting department who drives a 1982 Civic and puts The Club on it every morning - yeah, you need the extra security). The biggest resident of the parking garage is this shiny black Hummer. A shiny black Hummer with a chrome pitbull hood ornament and a personalized license plate (THRASHER, KILLER, KRUSHER or something along those lines). Yeah, I know.

For months, I wondered who could possible need so much compensation as to purchase this vehicle. About two months ago, I finally got my answer, I arrived at work at the same time as said Hummer and flew out of my vehicle in time to see an Oompa Loompa jump down out of the Hummer. I must have laughed out loud because he turned towards me. Seeing me smiling, he waved and I waved back (because I felt like a dork).

Now, I don't see this guy all that often (one can only assume from his vehicle that he's the boss and doesn't need to work all that much) but every time I see him in the parking garage or anywhere in the complex, I can't help but smile. So everytime he sees me, I'm smiling and he gives me this lecherous yeah-I'm-the-man kind of smile. And every time, I feel this weird mixture of amusement, embarassment and nausea.