home: August 2007 Archives

You know I get no end of joy out of watching the prostitutes as I walk home late at night. Flamboyant doesn't even begin to describe them. Is 'miamiviceish' a word?

But last night as I walked back from the metro around 3:00, a big, black SUV pulled up near me, and the two attractive women inside asked me if I was doing okay. To think I look like a male hooker is probably the least likely thing you can imagine.

(The only other possibility I can come up with is that the sexual come-on was just a lure for some less enjoyable event. But we won't think about that.)